Like mourning bells ringing,
I woke to hear trumpets playing taps,
Next to a funeral casket.
I observed quietly,
With some foreign melodies filling the void between my temples.
Showing disregard out of mere respect,
Really.
Not for myself,
Certainly.
For I was as dead as the corpse I was grieving.
Falling into my fog again, screaming the names of ex-lovers
Over and over and over.
Needing infatuation
On uneven planes of judgment,
As if I were seeking insight from an invalid.
But there was a time when I lacked even more
Than at that loathsomely lonesome moment.
And it went slithering on inside of the void
Like some ******* disease that was ripping the holy living **** out of my heart.
Seeing the casket lower
Under a cascade of flowers,
My temples went silent,
The melodies burned away like thousands of distant cinders,
And their voices occupied the void, as if my mind was their soapbox.