Though it swallows our friends, the grave never speaks
And our voices can’t reach them now; they’re buried too far down
It’s difficult to imagine how dark it is for you, I guess this was something you had to go through
What’s it like, being free? Is it like a dream?
You never liked the noise, the ruckus and all the ploys
I guess you got what you always wanted, though it all seems haunted
This world seems a little darker to me too, of my cold grave it’s a little preview
Your memory will die now that you’re gone, inevitable like the going of dawn
This journey without you, I wonder if it even matters whether I do
The birds sing as before, I see when I’m gone there’ll be no uproar
With you in silence, to the earth I return and bring some balance
As it was so it will be, a life is gone and gives another its key
This life is pointless as can be, but it defines our eternity
Soon silence comes and we leave this place, so toil for the next and for this grace

No, seriously
it's ether this or Oatmeal you guys.

You ******, exotic,
Beautiful creature.
I could not be more intrigued by you.

I drove, 46 miles,
to be screamed at for being late.

When I rolled in with a leather jacket
my lit cigarette,
you asumed I was this rebel.

Dangerous,
adventurous creature.

Dropped onto this earth
for your entertainment

That's exactlly what I am.
46 miles away from my home town.

My foam swords,
magic the gathering cards,
Dungeon and dragons playing self
packaged tightly in the lockbox
at my bedroom door.

Today, I am a persona poem.

My smolder is a gas mask.
you are the poison gas.

It was invented for survival
in the trenches with you.

I hold myself like a commander
shouting orders at my mind:

“Stop calling her beautiful, you maggot!
She wants you to take charge.”

“Sir, yes sir!”

...So uh...
What do you wanna do today?

“What do you think you're doing?
Don't give her options, Maggot!
Tell her where you're going!”

“Sir, yes, sir”

We're getting coffee.
her favorite coffee house

She gets a nutella mocha.
I get a 16oz almond milk maple syrup latte

She calls me a hipster,
I laugh, I don't disagree.
I give her the radio,

“What do you think you're doing maggot!?”

“trust me,
we need to find out what music she likes."

Show tunes.
Light bulb.
Rapport jackpot.

you ever heard of Rocky Horror?
Doctor Horribles Sing Along Blog?
Little Shop of Horrors?
Repo, The Genetic Opera?
Hedwig and The Angry Inch?

“What do you think you're doing maggot?
Don't fall in love with this girl."

“Sir, maybe, sir”

We walk the beach,
Singing showtunes
we know all the words.

“You're actually the first person
I've seen in real life from tinder...
I hear all these stories
couples meeting online
Getting murdered
I was half expecting you to **** me.”

“Well we didn't get to the end of the beach yet"

.... wait... is she serious?

"My boyfriends waiting
at the rocks down there
when we Start to ****
he's gonna jump out
slit your throat.
The redness of your blood
spilling on the rocks
is going to make me so,
*******,
Wet.”

"... I
.."

She texts her boyfriend
asks to kiss me.

Babe.
Babe.
C'mon Babe.
Really, Babe.
Babe.
Babe.
Babe.

I drive to portland in the rain
We park in the parking garage
There was free on street parking
but I don't
Understand...
Parking Signs...

“Good job, maggot.”
“Sir, yes, sir”

I drive the 46 miles back to kennebunk to drop her off.

She keeps my favorite shirt
because it smells like me.

when I get home.
I find her ******* in my backseat.

“You forgot something, Maureen"
when do we Tango again?

"When you pay my Rent,
You smug *******."

a familiar melancholy slowly fills my lungs, puncturing each lonesome rib until it permeates my entire physical being. a disease embedded into my DNA, flowing through my veins where the blood reaches my brain through a crooked spine and wellness becomes obsolete

I called on the wind
Maman would have had a fit
I called for the wind by name.

I asked her today
Please sing my song to the world
and just like my hair she curled

Noisy spirals, like
lunar periods tidal.
The wind spoke in mania

She's shouting, howling.
A drunk Father passing through
A scared Mother beating you

Momentarily
Wind made me god, and I was
bigger than I ever knew

I am powerful
and destructive, tormented
still by being invented

Then manifested
in earthly form as human
ever striving for balance

When inside of me
Equity had been replaced
Now anger stood in its place

Personified, I'm
Refocusing my compass.
But to where do I set course,

What is my purpose?
Concerned with Identity
To seek out Serenity

I know that the
grass is green and
sun red, but sometimes
yellow like dandelions,
and the earth is brown
just like trunks of trees.
I know the skies
are painted in blues
that eventually fade
into mauve, at some point
coalescing into the seas
and limpid waters of
sun-kissed beaches, where
strange exotic fruits would
entice with violets and amaranths
redolent of a night on
some far island, stood
beneath the stars whilst
they shine white like...
a million ways out.
Each one a brush,
showing me the palette.
But everything just looks
grey and dark and
black.

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.