I don’t really try to understand what’s going on but
My obituary is in the paper
Came those who had the audacity to say,
“good for him. he’s dead.”
they say “Rest in peace…asshole”
Yeah, those were the days of my disloyal youth.
Lord, I know dancing with ghosts is no damn good.
My shirt is wet because I sit here sweating and I don’t have any reason other than being nervous that I will almost die again-
because there has not been enough time between now and the last time I almost died. Because its been two long years, but its only been two years, ya know what I mean?
I was born in June and I almost died in October and now I carry it with me wherever I go. I felt the presence and pretense of death inviting me into the confessional where my sins might be eaten like the bacteria phage of the holy river Ganges whose source is glacial from high atop the crevasses of those immaculate white mountains.
At first, I was hungry for death, so I fed from its very hands. But my hunger was a vile beast. I was unable to see the beauty in all that is living and manifest.
Find me. Find me here shaking so that I may finally be able to create the peace I yearn for.
Help me. Shine your rays on my changed face. Recognize that my strides sometimes hesitate.
I want to renegotiate with the brokers who sold me this shitty “boy in a box” plot of life.
I want to be real and eternal and all things good in this world and finally get inside the hemic guts of who we all are.
I am often by myself, but I am never alone. I am wounded but I will heal.
I could walk out into traffic to die, but my family will share its pain elsewhere.
I even out my life in the garden, making the most of my time, watching the colour drain from everything before October comes again;
my place here getting farther and
farther away until I can
barely see the crown I once