*Don't read this before,after, or during a funeral.
I'm sitting on the floor right now because the chair is too good for me. You'd shoot me off my high horse too, if you only knew…….that free-will is not an option when they say smile, keep it light, and you say…..someone just died……hung up in their moment, hung up on their existence, maybe searching for the loveliest of loves or dreaming the nightmares that beat reality……COMPASSION…..for life is all I ask. Tell that to gravity, fire, water, and overpopulation….Oh look at my flesh….you'll have to drag this one out as far as you can….I've got room to grow…room for a dizzy spell….and a soul worth fighting for…and the winner is….(come on angel on my shoulder where are your blades and flame throwers?)….the winner is….the devil, or whoever the hell. This is not a joke. This is 12:00 Sunday.
Why tell me how to live my life when you can just…take it. Take it all…clenching and gut wrenching you sit on my shoulder as I unscrew my head and you fill it up to the brim… and the Sign on the road says "Call 1-800-Go-Be-A-Saint…..There's something in it for you!!!" But I'm trading anything for everything says the mother over the casket of swerving wavering faith…oh just tumble down, it's easier than restraining yourself…..This is not a joke. This is 12:00 Sunday.
I stand with the porch light on and listen through screen doors. Black is not my color….I'm ridiculous in reasoning….maybe I should start a journal of times when I've been close to dying….and tear out the last page. Piggy back rides and bloody noses, my age comes in all sizes with hooks and strings attached…so "strong" I'm sick with strength and passing it on to the next onlooker…eyes shooting up like shutters out of sleep….wait…I'm not in the box…forget the black dress and bury me naked...BURY ME NAKED (and save some money). I'll only go if I go all the way…cuz we all know Death is the opposite of sex…and if you're up for good convo…you should go find an "educated" virgin. This is not a joke. This is 12:00 Sunday.
Maybe 1000 songs live inside me and I've been hired to be their assassin. But no one has taught me how to aim…and my damn head is always in the way…At least until the story and the song that is "me" gets sucked down to the grave with my angry pale passive illusion of self. SMITE ME OH MIGHTY SMITER!!!! Cuz my fortune cookie says "Loser"
But who knows someone who sang in the shower at a mental hospital……saying "maybe 1000 songs live inside me and….." La di da. This is not a joke. This is 12:00 Sunday….5 years ago.