When you name me, spit it. Your mouth is lukewarm,
and your lips too porous. Remove me.
Throw me on the heap that's nearly hill and
light the ****** up already.
Let me burn last, so I can see the rest go before me
and know.
No rest for the weary cremator, eh?
Let us all burn fast. Let's get this over with.
It's never over, though, is it?
None of these were ever special. None of us was ever "yours."
When you name me, call me "Kindling."
Call me what you've called us, each, if you call me at all.
Later on, you can smile and blame the ashes!
I know I've trusted blind and spat my best lessons
back into the wind.
I will always be a wanderer, broken glass at my feet, each step.
Lacerate me. Separate my skin again. Break me open and see the rot inside this tree.
****** ******
**** me. The same
mistakes
archetypes
engagements
entanglements
Miles.
Years.
A lifetime.
One and the same.
**** me.
Throw me on the heap that's almost hill. And light the ****** up.