I missed me when I had to go away.
  They said it was for my own good.
  I sort of existed in a Lithium fog.
  I was gone from me except in dreams.

I dreamed of the sun born from hell.
I dreamed of angels called sisters.
I saw a cruel king with eyes of hate
who threatened me with his love.

  Now I'm kind of back. They kept pieces
  of my brain, the pieces that made me
  cut myself in a tub of tepid water to
  bleed out this life of threatened love.

I write My Prayer so as not to be forgotten
  by the time my funeral service and the casseroles
  and my cold ashes in some anonymous jar are an
  afterthought while the living move on as we do.

  Know that I was born March 23, 1949, at 5:32 am
  in Cincinnati, Ohio. Named William John Donovan
  the second. Firstborn son, 2 older sisters. I'm sure
  I was shriveled like a prune and PTSD after the chute.

  I lived a typical baby boomer life in that time.
  A whole bunch of hi jinks and other mistakes marked
  my time. A million laughs, a billion grins and pain
  and regret, etc. The scale is centered as far as I know.

  I'm now 69 (oh how long I wanted to say that) and I'm at
  a delicate place. I must dismantle my life. The **** collected
  is monumental. It's precious to me, only me. Proof of stuff
  I did at school, sports, work and clothes that defined me.

  Books are my essence. They map my life more than anything.
  I pile myself into boxes. I drop them at Goodwill. Goodbye.
  Soon I'll be empty enough to disappear. Please read this
  prayer and put me in a special place inside your heart.

As angels go Dorothy was my favorite!
She knew our talents. She believed.
She helped us believe in ourselves.
She laughed the hardest, she loved us all,
she guided this lost soul into a place of peace.
I miss you very dearly. I miss you most of all.
The scarecrow, tin man and cowardly lion.
We'll see you at the end of the yellow brick road.
Love to our dear friend, Dorothy Rengsdorff.

It scares me how you turn
  your face into a wall
  how you rip your ears off
  when I call
  You turn your lips to stone
  when I try to kiss you when I fall
  in love with you and kneel at your
  feet with ****** knees after I crawl
  your just an old wrinkled crow almost
  forgotten except for your distant caw.

I'll drink your poison tonight.
It was not your fault but mine.
Forgive me but you can't because
you don't know how. Maybe in my
mourning I'll nail me to your cross
and die for you one final time.

I saw a flying machine
over our Kansas corn and
knew where I belonged.
In the sky in heavens
life can be a travelogue.
Fly around Earth into
oblivion proving myself
until I went missing...

I work the streets at night
dressed for business in cars.
I do my best to look pretty.
Makeup hides my scars.
They always pay in cash.
They hate perfume's scent.
We never kiss goodnight.
It's what I do for rent.