"My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"
I scream as I hang from my cross.
The birds come eat at my side,
I feel their beaks at my ribs,
there's blood pouring down my thighs,
I hear the droplets pooling down my toes and down onto the wet dirt.
The crowd murmurs and stares and I see no pity in their eyes,
but rather, a darkness,
a sense of expectation and wonder, waiting for the next spectacle to begin.
I have been abandoned by the almighty.
"Hineni my lord!"
Still, Death does not embrace me.
Behind me the veil is pierced and
above me the skies fall down.
The man with the longspear returns with a leather canteen and gives me salt water.
Two convicts beside me share my fate,
"Your God has abandoned us,
Curse him while there is still breath in your lungs!" The accused to my left shouts through the pulp where his mouth had once been.
"Remember me! Speak to your father on my behalf when you return to his kingdom". Begs the thief on the right, his sight now taken from him.
I close my eyes and await what is to come.
The nails sting deeper into my palms,
My fractured ankle bones give out.
The wind caresses my cheekbones,
It sings a secret chord, a final melody.
I taste the salt and iron on my lips.
A scent of lilies lingers the air.
I breathe in, I breath out,
It is done.

My father used to say,
"You don't have friends,
You have associates, or acquaintances,
And you can count your true friends with your ten fingers and you will still have fingers left."
He knew best regarding friendships,
He was once a member of a mafia with a specific job that involved torturing others.
Before that, he was in the service, and rarely spoke of it, there were no portraits of him in uniform around the house, although he always raised the American flag in our front yard.
I never saw my father hang out with anyone,
Or ever tell my mom he was going out for drinks or an afternoon with the guys,
No one ever came to visit, nor did we ever go to anyone's house.
He was sober for at least 20 years,
Way before I was born back then.
He would sleep long into the night and sometimes would begin screaming when he remembered the things he's done.
I always thought my father was crazy,
I had lots of friends left and right,
And I knew I could count on them and they on me.
After all, I was always there when they needed me, that is, until I needed them.
Slowly I began to notice that
I was everybody's friend,
But I have no friends,
I have associates.

It's two in the morning,
The end of December.
I'm staring at the abyss that is my ceiling.
Pondering my own death,
Which I've been contemplating often
As of late,
Not in a suicidal or sadistic kind of way,
But rather,
The fear that comes with embarking
On that journey.
This chapter is coming to its finality
And not where I wanted it to end.
A cliffhanger of majestic proportions.
Tomorrow will be the last day for many,
The first for others.
I'm broken
Physically,
Spiritually,
Mentally.
I dream of a lady every now and then,
She always appears the same,
Resting on a wooden rocking chair,
The smell of pinewood fills the air,
A lady bug lands on her right index finger.
She stares back and smiles,
Sunlight reflects on her pupils.
Perhaps it is my grandmother,
Telling me she's in a better place.
I think I'm the lady bug searching for somewhere to rest.
I stare at nothing, and see my reflection.
At first there was nothing but darkness,
Then God said "Let there be light."
My wife turns on the bedside lamp,
Passes me a pillow and tells me good night.
Lights out once more.
My dog begins barking,
Or a noise between a bark and a whimper,
He does that often.
I caress his back and he grunts,
but at last, his nightmare is over.
I stare at the ceiling and the weight of the darkness is heavy on my eyes,
So I close them and ponder some more.

Because at the end of the chapter,
It wasn't what I did that I regret,
but the things I didn't do.

I never published my poems,
I never did get that promotion,
I never finished that model car,
I never completed that assignment,
I never hung that painting,
I never approached her,
I never spoke up when I should've,
I never learned to play the piano,
I never sang in a band,
I never picked up Italian,
I never fixed that window,
I never watched the entire trilogy,
I never told him I would miss him,
I never apologized,
I never pulled that trigger,
I never did shut my mouth,
I never liked Bob Dylan,
I never understood Cohen,
I never danced tango,
I never finished that bottle,
I never put it down,
I never became a nurse,
I never won at poker,
I never did half of the things I wanted to do,
and I will never finish this poem.