but I will miss
writing
in the afterlife.

it was the only way
I could slice open my veins
and bleed out my words
without making a mess.

Memories of childhood, reminisce of pet-like life
Time unborn, devoted to cartoons and toys
Tiny lives filled with little joys

Little fingers drew the future, coloring all sorts of objects
painting white walls
Our masterpieces
punishment
And then, tears

We mouthed storytellers
Innocence was not of choice
Questionable belief in soothsayers
“Music is forbidden!” They shouted
But our jumpy feet touched and danced
We moved in circles
Incoherent dance
tiny lives filled with little joys

Careless giggles at the cautious tales of heaven and earth
Death was a mean man in a black robe
We were fearless in the face of mystery
Little wanderers armed by the Whys and Hows

But dear, little did we know

That death is the lingering shadow weighing on the edge of our beds

That afterlife is a haunting nightmare

That morals are the sleep paralysis of chaotic choices

“Childhood is the only known heaven!”, we asserted
So we became fitful sleepers
Actively protesting the killings of children
With our toy-like, light beaming devices

Such despairing hope
We search for little joys
Now we feel older than we should
A cause for misery
Trapped in a ruinous decay
Trying to remain joyous
Because we merely remain

Bodies that pile are dead
On top of soil like its their bed

The animals that are roaming above are vultures
Watching every body structure
Waiting if its clear to puncture

Bodies sinking to the soil
Maybe its better if they boil

But its nice to know
That they're going to a better place somehow
Wondering if the bodies below
Has experience loved somehow

Have I got no future, no friends
Caring when others run in fright
I would’ve jumped from a great height
To relieve this body from its debt

Have I got no siblings, no father
Crying in blood and tears
I would’ve pushed the soul to its limit
Near death and out of body experience
To relieve this soul from its debt

Have I got no mother, no lover
Caring with folded hearts
I would’ve revolted on my beliefs
With the same words I’ve been taught
To relieve this mind from its debt

But no courage could be found
To cure the mind’s actions and commands
To risk nothing for the sake of nothing
To find a debtless land

In Hebrew,
"Die" translates to "enough".
I have had enough of everything.
My eyes protest when I attempt to take in any more light,
Eyelids drooping lower than my non-existent self esteem.
My indelible experiences on this wretched planet are etched into every bare section of my skin,
Telling even the stories I tried my best to leave behind.
The one thing about misery is that misery loves company,
You are never alone when you're on your premeditated journey to the afterlife.

I / Before

I moved slowly,
always wanting to reach
the end of the narrow roads.

I found deceptions and satisfactions;
more deceptions than satisfactions
and more plurals than singulars.

I coveted everything
beyond these high walls,
even so I didn't rush my life.

I believed in other people's beliefs
and I hoped which from me
the time to slip away... killing me, then.

II / During

However, neither it I could get.
I followed so many ways
and neither they could help me.

Ocasionally I sighted daisies
blossoming on the walls
and among the tiles of the streets.

Sighting so many daisies was madness.
Well, to hell with sanity!
And what would be of life without its paradoxicality?

Much suffering for little time!
Little contemplation for much beauty!
Much anguishe for little heart!

III / After*

Oh, the other side:
feared by a few,
coveted by others.

Although the labyrinth
seems infinite and sufferable,
we can find the exit together.

The question is not how we can get out,
reaching, at last, the afterlife;
and yes, how we can end with so much suffering.

To start over, we must wake up!
To wake up, we must exist!
And like this, life will wait for us!