ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
born a baby, dying a child.

entering the world loudly and leaving oh so quietly, in silent suffering, body frothing
from the assortment of miscellaneous pills
scrounged together, but mind empty as always.

this time, though, it’s an okay empty;
it’s the blue sky with open possibilities
and feverish sights kind of empty.
an accepting empty.

the childhood i can’t remember,
you’d think i’d want to forget honestly,
but i want those screams and slams so badly.
the pain would give me more to think about
and what i hate more than anything is
having nothing to do at all.

more than that, i’d have golden daffodils.
there is no before for me, i don’t think.
this world has never been all friendly,
always has been tainted by uncanny love.
yet, maybe in those untouchable moments
my brain has locked away,
they have to be there
it’s cruel that they’d just be gone altogether,
maybe there are moments that are more spring
than winter, more innocent than hurt, more safe than scared, more free than hidden.

it’s not like it matters, in these last moments,
but i do know i want my last ones to reflect it.
if my first weren’t emerging from the ground
in naive fervor, then my last
would softly lay down
in the shimmering fields like a young doe.

maybe, in another life, maybe.
maybes have never worked for me,
far too redundant for someone so practical,
but maybe i could pretend to be
that other person in another life
in my last moments.

if i’m not who i am
at the end, in the end,
did i really die?

if i’m someone else
for a moment
dreaming of another
sweeter, gentler
life, not mine,
yet mine, theirs,
did i not live it?
was i not born again?

coming to terms with my life
is frankly unachievable.

but perhaps, through this method,
i can make peace somewhere else;
so that by the time my brain catches on,
it’ll be too late. it’s past bedtime, dear,
so let’s head to bed and chase sheep.

ah, is this what reincarnation is meant to be?