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listening to my death
breath after breath
my face up against
fogged glass
behind a door opened wide
that led inside the madness
a childhood spent outside
away from the screaming
and the people above
and me under the table
hiding and dreaming
of a way out
mind offers the refuge
checking out of the present
drifting detachment
frame by frame
I freeze each pane
observe the general
through the lens of the particular
a two-sided fleshy crack
a split implicit in my vision
duality of blindness
to see or not to see
the core element of “me”
is missing
i’ve disappeared
in the years like a blur
a perpetual cycle
of this-is-not-happening
so my whole life’s passed me by
a third person kind of scene
where the whole of “me”
has been reeling
projected scripted feelings
on the big screen
all the shiny glitzy moving dramas
rise and unfold and fall away
the life of a star
from inception to dissipation
i become hole when I come apart
but i’m still alone in the dark
under my skin encased
like a fatty sausage
plump and forcefed
why is it excess
is always part of the human
dream of glory?
to escape the pain in the seeming
to only deepen the extremes
living somewhere in between
the need and the greed
consuming just enough to get by
i dedicate
everything i don’t have
to every thump of my heart
another beat of my life
ticking by
the past is a senile relative
who always stops you on your way out
or on your way in
long-winded and old
yet still lingering
before the cold takes hold
and they don’t rise from their beds
and then there’s something you miss
after the loss
we avoid this distress
by circumventing and stalling
believing that somewhere somehow
we’re different
the golden child that never grew old
effectively putting off the acceptance
and the thorn
in the back of your mind
that all I am is now
and it will be gone
like all that longed
and lost
it breaks me down
to the bare naked truth
that by the time I realize
this very second
it’s gone
the bittersweet awareness
of impermanence
is what awakens
the lucid gem
of liberation