How can I possibly be so deep inside my own head and still breathe?
How is there anything left in there for me to think?
The electricity pulses behind my eyes and
it hurts
Like live wires going supernova before they die
It hurts to think
It hurts to breathe
It hurts to be

I* leapt and dove into the depths of indigo
Night spilled carelessly onto my sky
Darkness smothered with tides of indigo
I almost drowned and whimpered a cry
Grappled with the vagueness of indigo
Out of the *blue, I'd emerge with a heavy sigh

I know it's late, but I'm
At home alone with
A couple of six-
Packs and a guitar and the
Love of my life just gave
That Old *******
Cancer the finger, so I'm

Drinking and playing and
Singing until my liver,
Fingertips and throat are
Bleeding
Since the radiation and
Chemo don't have to
Make her bleed any

More, and
I've got something to celebrate
Unlike anything I thought I
Ever would in a life that
I mistakenly thought of
As rich until
This.

I look out of my window at
Stars and a moon that
Pretend not to
Give a **** in their
Neutral shining and stuff,
And I'm less poet than lover.
I've got all night

For this evening.
It's mine, and like
All else that is: Hers.
I know she's with friends.
I know she laughs.
I hope she misses me less
Than I do her,

And just celebrates her
Beautiful new
Lily-like blossoming into
Deathlessness.
It's as alien to her
As Life to a
Newborn.

It is becoming
So hard to be that monster
That people admire
Like watching a Trainwreck
Which gives the simple
Something to talk about
And getting older
Makes it more difficult
By the day
I have rendered myself so frail
Fighting a young man's war
Without the concern
Of becoming the old man
Who calls the shots
I fill with worry
That when that beast dies
Because I can no longer maintain him
No one will love
who I actually am
As I wonder
If anyone
Actually ever knew