He was holding a book of death
Bent, with the pages torn out
Leaving only a crumpled chrome shell
And a fine lighter burn line down the spine
Groggy eyed with an absent mind
He led me to the den for music making
A second sent me untrained vibrations
Out of tune and practice, too; songs from a time now gone
A third paced with pale face and wandered naked in a robe
Shifting eyes as if the spies did roam
He jammed another negative noseblow
They all did in turn
They never learn
They nodded off
Or started to
They mentioned college
For a few
And how they weren’t going anymore but sheep find sleep in woods
And so they should
The time had come to disentangle the knot
Knead the very tissue that their issue had so tightened
To the degree that they could not stand
And head became their bed became their dead
As their chins dropped, lids drooped and bodies slumped into a pile
I forgot that I was sitting straight and had been for a while
Once his percussion became my inward melody and song
I found music in everything I met, life worthy pigment
Sometimes I dream about reading your name
And hearing that you were found a motionless ocean head
I contemplate you
And I
Fade
Away