If I told you that
You'll be okay in a month's time,
Would you believe me?

Because you will.
You're stronger than you think you are.

(Not a dismissive I'm fine, either,
But 'okay' in the genuine sense.)

Lost in your grief and pain and anger,
You've forgotten just how resilient you really are.

Every time you hit rock bottom,
You discover a hidden strength in you
That you never knew.

When your worst fears come to pass,
You discover that there's life after the storm,
That the boulder seems more like a pine cone in hindsight.

The pain comes and goes like the tide,
But each onslaught will be easier to withstand,
Until it's nothing more than a faint murmur.

You will get back on your feet again
And dare to love and hope again
To dream new dreams.

You think this hell will last forever.
It won't.

None of this makes sense now
But it will soon enough.

And that person who did this to you
Won't even cross your mind.
When you do remember,
The pain fades more and more each time.

So love yourself.
Remember who you are,
What you're made of.

God won't help you -
He already gave you that power.

Do whatever it takes.
Go out
Or stay in.
Hit the gym
Meet people
Read or cook
Write and write and write
Make poems and stories
Make good art,
Like Gaiman said.
Whatever it takes.
Your recovery comes first.

You can do it.
I know you can.

Things will get better,
I promise you.

I would have loved to teach you
Chinese chess
And Muay Thai
Or even Brazilian Jiujitsu
Staining the mats
With sweat and stolen caresses
A serious session
That just might transition
From full guard
To full-on French kissing.

We could have watched Oldboy again
Together this time,
Or Glengarry Glen Ross,
My favorite movie.
And you could have shown me
A film major's favorite movies.

We could have tried the tacos
In Chupacabra,
The salmon sashimi in Sugi
(Their fresh sea urchin is the bomb, by the way).
I could even have cooked for you.
My vichyssoise isn't bad.
And you do love potatoes more than your own family.

Kayaking in the south,
Roadtripping all the way north,
Visited the stone houses and the honest folk
Of the northernmost islands.

Held contests
To see who could drink who under the table.
Your weakness is beer,
Mine is soju.
Could have seen who could hold whiskey better. 

I was dead serious too
When I said I was serious
About taking you
To the West Indies and North Africa
For that pilgrimage of yours.

I was prepared to hear what you had to say
About the things you see
The spirits calling to you
The dead dancing like wisps at dusk
Demons chasing you;
Skeptic or not,
I never would have minded you waking me up at 4 AM
To tell me about your latest vision.

Run cigarette companies out of business
Introduced you to my friends and my family
Listened to you sing and
Allowed awe to seize me again and again
Written a hundred poems in praise
And read your requital ones.

Kissed under the stars,
Talked in the dark
On the sand
Until 3 AM,
Exchanging yawns and hugs,
Bumming smokes off of each other
And greeting the sunrise
With a bottle of local moonshine
Bought from the fisherfolk.

Taken you shooting
9mm, .45, even 12 gauge.
Entwine my arms around you
Whisper in your ear
Inhale the cordite in the air and the smell of your skin
Teaching you shot placement
That you're pulling the trigger wrong
And hold your breath a bit and don't flinch.

Played Skyrim and CoD all night long
Yelled ******* at each other
While kicking *** on Tekken
And swapping spit in between rounds.

Made friends with your beagle
And discussed a life together
A dog, a cat, maybe no kids.
Just one, if ever.
Argued over names for the kid.

We had a real connection, too,
But, oh well,
How was I supposed to know
That you were just looking for cheap thrills
For transient pleasure
That the 'connection' was probably just one-way?
Maybe I'm just stupid.

I'll just have to find someone else
To do these things with.
Someone better, smarter, funnier,
But none of your legion of issues
The truckloads of your problems.

Have a nice day.

I dreamed that I finally met you.

The apocalypse was at hand.
The sky bled as it came undone
Brother murdered brother
Monsters roamed the land
Beasts spoke in the learned tongues of men
Elementals emerged
From the hidden corners of the earth
To take back what was once theirs.

It was in the bleakest hour of mankind
That we crossed paths.

Stranger greeted stranger
Like old friends,
A warm hello
With a twinkle in the eye,
Before one took the other's hand.

The apocalypse was anything but
If its conclusion is so serene,
Rendering the torrent of fire and brimstone
A drizzle of petals and dew.

Eternity ended too soon
As the tolling of the church bell
Called in the sunrise
And chased off the cobwebs of slumber,
Along with it,
All semblance of felicity.

If it had to be a dream
At least make it a prophetic one.

If it will take the end of days,
The death of a star,
A cataclysm of the celestials,
For me to meet you,
Then so be it.

Let the world burn.

Poetry is a healthier alternative
To picking fistfights with strangers
(OI. THE ******* STARIN' AT?)
Or stalking your gigs
While groping the knife
Tucked into my waistband

Because convalescing in silence
Is still better
Than having quack doctors and faith healers
Crowd over your body
Touch, rub, probe, poke
With their grubby fingers
Write you illegible prescriptions
Charging you a king's ransom
For 'professional advice'.

You just need to get out more.
Fresh ***** is the answer!
Pray. Have faith.
Geez, you're not over it yet?

It would've been better
If I just kept my **** mouth shut
And kept up the facade
A walking picture of health.

I don't need your ******* platitudes
Your uncomprehending stares
The drivel you proudly spew
Like how you so lovingly ladle out swill to the homeless
Assured of another mansion in heaven.

*******.
This is not a soup kitchen
And I don't need your pity.
(And condescension does not save you.)

Convalescing in silence
Is still more logical
Than rallying people
To eradicate sickness from earth
By arresting viruses
Putting them on trial.

A virus does what it does.
It is in its nature,
Like how stray dogs bite
And how ****** ****.

Poetry is the best choice.
It's active non-action.
Reflecting
While the seasons change,
The fullness of time comes,
And news of your impending demise arrives
Of when your moral destitution
Finally catches up to you.

And by the time it comes around,
My youthful ignorance will have bled out a bit,
And I will receive the news
With a smile, a cigarette, and a new poem.