Flashes of happiness
are birthed out of clashing glitches,
sickening and imagined.
Scatter ashes to bitter winds
in remembrance of anything,
but the tragic stabs skin
and we forget to love the many dreams that were fused together beautifully.

I refuse this to be another funeral speech. Its a mutiny, a coup.
I'm not dead, still dripping truth from my chest.
I love you.