From The moment of being found
and a tiny voice whispers through your hollow chest
"I'm a teacher and I'm under the desk''
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
and you have accepted that you will die
and you have made your peace with the end
and realized there's nothing you can do
and you cannot help those who will miss you
From You know you are going to die today
Take someone with you. To heaven or hell. Whatever.
Make sure she's beautiful.
Like the ones you have always wanted
tried to get in school
but never could
Life and Death
There is a point
when you know it's over
You accept it is over
when you let go in peace
not knowing the difference
between life and death.
It's all one.
From The Beast is like a drug
The Beast is like a drug.
Once triggered, injected, swallowed, accepted
he slips into my blood.
The Beast sweeps through my bloodstream.
He sneaks into my chest
pounding and throbbing
fiery-prickly sensations.
Tingling-brain and body freeze
end brain function.
From Walking along the city street
My friend has gone ahead.
Eventually I pick up my leaden feet, jelly body, in bits and pieces
mounting the steps
unfocussed
one step
slowly
after another
lost
I move toward the door of the café dazed.
From For M. You know about
Sudden tears uncontrollably streaming
a trigger
you had no idea was just waiting.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
You know about minimizing grief
superficial comparisons to the pain of others
because you were raised to be
a soldier
a general
a sport
a comrade
tough-minded
a survivor
et al.
From Driving this familiar route
I am light
can't get grounded
I am hollow inside
wind blows
through the skeleton
of my torso
my empty ribcage
I grab the wheel a little tighter