When Friday buried Thursday
at the cemetery
I was eating eggs and
bacon in my bathrobe.
The other days wore black
attire to the burial
and brought white geraniums.
I stood in silence for three minutes
after I finished my breakfast
then wrote a note for the weekend:

“My time will come,
don’t wait for me,”

and left.

I selfishly await my own demise,
While fearing death of those who are around.
It’s only for others that the heart cries.

A cruel joke the world plays, love dies
Ensuring all the mourning heads are crowned.
I selfishly await my own demise.

People around me try to dry my eyes,
But I know tears are meant to stay. I’ve found
It’s only for others that the heart cries.

Our final dreary rest is food for flies.
As others meet that cold and final ground,
I selfishly await my own demise.

Life claims my will, in my casket it lies
With memories in which their deaths are bound.
It’s only for others that the heart cries.

No faith on which that I rely, the skies
Are holding out on heaven so profound.
I selfishly await my own demise,
It’s only for others that the heart cries.

Life hums a tune of sweet deceit.
Identity, a tender crime
Tells you falsely you are special
When truly all you have is time.

Success is stale and rarely true.
Existence never spends a care
On your final destination,
As purpose is a common prayer.

The victims of society
Avoid temptation to rebel,
As straying from the Promised Land
Will risk a trip towards doubtful hell.

Life hums a tune of sweet deceit,
The course you take you will decide.
Identity: the wisest choice,
Success in death is useless pride.

Oxygen has this way to let us live and let us die
Generous enough to give us our first breathe
But cruel enough to give it to another
Who in time will cause nothing but harm.

Combining with the pollution that surrounds the gases
It breaks us down into opinions that are neither right nor wrong
We battle each other while we ignore its silent laughter
Tearing at each others throats as if to break the windpipe

Sirens wail over hills touching even the lands covered in shadows
While cruel beasts stay dependent on the invisible
The sound waves soar between signs upon the motorways
While the taste on your tongue torments the oxygen that it swallows

Going, leaving, left, the pupils dilate to such a degree
That they nearly reach the size of its lids
We see it as a mother, a nurturer, a monster
And the world has given it the ticket to our lives.

Drip, drip, drops the wax on the candlestick
As it sits upon the moss covered bridge
There to show the way to the other side
We seek its comfort, its warm embrace
The orange light shines in the dark of night
We stand there listening for the problems in the wind
But we stand back to back, always together
Never knowing the other is there
We just feel the comfort of the burning candle
As it pushes us through our lives