Jesus wept.
c o l d . . .
the feeling that permeated the heavens.
not an angel's heart beat as the light flickered
just in time to hear a whispered
y e s . . .
and gunshots.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
intravenous
for C.A.W
Je t’aime et
tu me manques.
i.
it’s a cold day in hell, and i
am running out of steps.
dites-moi porquoi
la vie est belle;
dites-moi porquoi
la vie is gaie.
the children singing in the street
should go fuck themselves,
life isn’t beautiful
and the gaiety is dead;
smooth and shiny,
like my skull,
but dead.
ii.
i like to sit
and watch the roses die
because I,
then, am not
the only one dying
at youth’s zenith.
if you could call this,
youth--
ithinkthe
CHEMOburned
each drop of childhood
out of me--
and i saw the catheter
drain it away.
iii.
the doctors left me
dead; don’t let
frankenstein’s monster
fool you.
Je t’aime et
tu me manques.
i.
it’s a cold day in hell, and i
am running out of steps.
dites-moi porquoi
la vie est belle;
dites-moi porquoi
la vie is gaie.
the children singing in the street
should go fuck themselves,
life isn’t beautiful
and the gaiety is dead;
smooth and shiny,
like my skull,
but dead.
ii.
i like to sit
and watch the roses die
because I,
then, am not
the only one dying
at youth’s zenith.
if you could call this,
youth--
ithinkthe
CHEMOburned
each drop of childhood
out of me--
and i saw the catheter
drain it away.
iii.
the doctors left me
dead; don’t let
frankenstein’s monster
fool you.
Labels:
death,
dedication
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