I’ve got a one-way ticket to Crazy Town

Where they can never keep a good woman down.

One might suspect fatherless behavior.

Mine asked for a favor

While he was out buying booze

And came back less than enthused

To tell me his body is breaking down particle by particle.

Death, with a full moon under his hood, strokes his sickle

As it drools for a tendon to sever.

I watch the blood trickle

From my wrist,

Wishing me Merry Christmas, Happy New Year

And the best of luck in all my future endeavors.

We’re stuck in the running loop

Of living with a shriveled spirit inside.

My brain is soup

And rage is alive.

The further I distance myself from tragedy,

Diving into the deep end of the rolling green hills

With waves like the sea

And scenery that summon chills

To run marathons up and down my spine.

This race, no one will win.

You cross one finishing line just to find the other is out of reach.

Once rigor set in

And I sat for my afternoon tea

As the smooth porcelain of my skin

Out-purified the white of snow.

I’m not ready to go

Into the light.

If Life has taught me anything,

It is that Death works according to his own time.