Sunday, June 26, 2011

Wish My Life Away

I walk.

Sidewalks made of diamonds and gold. The water was flowing into pearl gutters and I may have noticed, had I ever looked down.

I promise.

I would not have tripped had my dreamy head not been stuck in the sky looking for airplanes going somewhere ... where the grass must be green.
While crayon stained greenery lay around me.

I may have looked that child in the eyes one more time and noticed that they are not so different from mine, had I not been sitting around writing the "To-Do" list for my life.

I could have seen how beautiful my life is here and now if I were not always so bent on being somewhere else.... right now.

I would have loved better.

Asked for more solid things less likely to slip through my little fingers.

I would have seen that you needed me and cared enough to go.

I would have set fire to the street and pained our hearts on graffiti stained nothings.

Just to prove that this is my life and I'm right where I belong.

Fear never held me. My walls are cold and tall reminding me of all the places where only other people can go. I would love more. I would be fearlessly unafraid.

I could have been a good many things.

Had I not wished my life away.


We should get together and cry.

... or have a funeral.

Please, tell me the difference.

We should pull our sorrow down to frail finger tips and hold hands compounding the distance between our minds.

Funerals are familiar faces.

They said that there's nothing worse than losing a child, but I never knew until I shook uncomfortable hands with her eyes. She said that it's like living through your own death and you no longer belong in this world or the next.

Her earth is a holding place.

Much like the girl in the next room.

Sometimes I think I can hear her soul begging to be set from from that shell of a mechanical body and I can't help but wonder.
What have we done to her?

I never thought death would look so merciful.

His hands were stiff blocks of ice and I could see the black sutures in their poor attempt to bring his lips into harmony and silence him... forever.
We have the same eyes and I was begging that he open them one more time.

He rose and conquered the grave.

Etched into my mind making an epitaph at every funeral... every wake.

I never said it out loud. I knew it was crazy before the thought was born, but death was sitting on my shoulder and I couldn't name him friend or foe.

He just was.

I will dance at your funeral if you promise to cry at mine.

I will hold your hand so tight that death has no choice but to take us at the same time.