These little deaths are pleasurable;
a tingle, an absence of oxygen,
a few dead cells.
I know joy.
I know God,
the meaning of life.
It's a tradeoff: the small joys disappear,
replacing a hum with a zoom,
feeling joy and pain alternate
like a flickering strobe light.
Is this awareness worth it?
Can you live a life once you know death?
If dying bit by bit is nice,
Why do we fear the ultimate end?