There will never be a forever me
But don't worry about my demise
Don't worry about how you treated me
Just file yourselves inside
The double doors will fit you all
I'm sure they'll open wide.
When the preacher starts he'll say something wise.
But don't worry about my demise

I won't have to worry about what is said
I'm sure they're  mostly lies
Maybe he'll say, "he lived and loved"
To which I'd laugh and say
"The preacher man, he got one right,
At least until today."
He'd continue his speech you'll dry your eyes.
But don't worry about my demise

It wasn't that love came hard for me
In fact it often came too quick
It was poorly timed oft undermined
By friends who said they cared
They never believed my love was real
So don't worry about my demise

And on that day of my demise
I hope at least one will say
"I loved him more, but never said
The words we all should say.
"Sometimes love is a rotten beast who steals and cheats and lies.
He deserved more from each of us.
Or someone before his demise."

Tentacles twist breaking bow and mast.
Clinging and clinching to the once mighty vessel.
A ship once prized by the Navy
Now prized as a partner for the sea beast.
Each serpentine tentacle tightens,
Around wooden board, and cast iron fastener.
Creaking and cracking the boat dances as the beast leads.
Waves crazed as they are whipped to frenzy,
Matching the mammoth's rhythms.
They struggle to keep the beast contained.
White caps covering the beasts murderous desire.
The ship is his, and as dances do,
This one ends in a flourish.
Cracking crosstrees and foremast,
Collapsing the gangways,
Sails still whipping as the dancer's dress is ravaged.
And as quickly as it began
It stops.
The monster sinks back from where his strike began.
The tired vessel following quickly after.
The water forgets its rhythm and steps.

Grotesque is a word reserved for Halloween, Asparagus, and my bathroom mirror.
A mirror that has never lied although there were times I asked it to.
The word is as descriptive as any in the English language
And it seems that it is synonymous with lonely and single.

While love is said not to ascribe to aesthetics.
I know for a fact, through experience, that attraction most definitely does.
So while love can exist for one that could be considered grotesque.
By all weights and measures, how is a person supposed to be loved,
When the other can't get the vomitous taste out of their mouth after looking at them?

Dark and dreary I know, but I've never been one to buy in.
To purchase the notion that one could look past, into what one is, before seeing how one looks.
Dismal outlook on the horizon I know but sometimes reality's worth crashing into.
Maybe I'm wrong, God I hope so.
Because if I'm wrong there's a future.
If I'm not
. . .

If Chicken Little's scare tactics are true
I would do anything to catch the sky for you.
I would hold that sky just as long as I could
Whether you loved me or not I swear that I would
I would lift it until I could hold it no more
With arms and legs shaking because it's you I adore.

The sky couldn't crush my love for you dear.
As you escaped danger I'd tell you through tears
That "You were the one that I held in my heart,
My one and only a pure work of art.
You never knew this but that makes it okay,
Because if it's my life for yours, well that's one debt I'll pay."

My love wouldn't save me or at least I couldn't be sure.
Like the sky on my shoulders it's something I would endure.
Your love wasn't for me something I just couldn't own.
But now the sky is too heavy as I let out a moan.
"I'll see you again my love, maybe in a dream with a kiss."
As the sky falls down on me I'm glad it ended like this.