When They Finally Burn Me

When they finally burn me
I’d have died a thousand deaths

When they finally burn me
I’d have died a thousand deaths but not lived lives enough


And yet every time I died; I’d tell myself this would be the last of them
And yet when the epilogue knocks the door, I’d tell myself this too would be an erstwhile lost in time


Flesh and bones smoked off a burning cigarette right to the ashes



When they finally burn me
I’d have died a thousand deaths
When they finally burn me
I’d have failed at life


The dead would mourn the death somewhat like the poet mourns the poetry

Chords of Discord

waged wars and riveting rebellions
at the end of it all
we eventually make peace
for the world is us and just us

vendettas breathe in between existences

Que Sera Sera

we befall where death beckons us
we become where life belies us
we betroth where happiness begets us

Motif

she sat up all night
and
bled by the piano

tales of an otherwise, shredded and minced in a rancid melody 

Barebones

between your chameleon thoughts of a desired love story
lives are traded in flesh and skin

but then, what about the barebones?

Poetic Justice

if words could cut half as deep as a poet's insides
it'd wither your entrails and shrivel your lungs and leave you for dead before life could whisper


the day poets turned poetry
mankind would be a long lost stranger

But Why

i wish i could be indifferent like it were true
i wish i could put on the facade of ignorance i bought off the inexpensive grocery store
i wish i could believe for once, stories were just about stories
i wish i could undo it all; every bit of it, every last of it

i wish for all and none of it
somewhat like the life of an oxymoron


why is it that distances seem ruthless cruel only sometimes
why is it that sometimes, existences grow flesh, become skin

but why