Death

Not a hero

Remember me when I’m gone,

but don’t make me out a hero.

Mourn for me, but not too long,

remember I’m no hero.

And when I’m gone

you’ll all move on

and find yourselves a hero,

but think of me,

perhaps wistfully,

and know I was no zero.

You will die

Open your eyes.

Awake.

Day breaks.

Steel yourself.

The gentleness of the night flees you,

as dreams will do.

Returning you to sharper things.

Open your eyes wide.

There is no place for escape here,

Nor time for childish indulgences.

Day chases way the night,

yet brings with it darker things.

Let the light awake your tired mind

and divorce you from the last comforts

of fairy tales.

You will die.

But before then,

there is work to be done.

No rest is allotted you.

No succor apportioned.

Remember there is no escape.

But there is one promise to carry with you.

No warming dream,

or gentle comfort.

A cold truth.

A last refuge.

You will die.

And then,

Close your eyes,

Sleep.

Dream sweetly,

Let the night embrace your tired mind

and carry you across dreamscapes

of softly rounded edges.

For your work is done.

We celebrated our friends 21st Birthday

We were like children

forgetting our bikes in the yard

as we wandered off to find our beds.

The bikes,

our bodies.

The yard,

the bar.

The children,

our minds.

We talked of things, of life and dreams.

We don’t recall the specifics.

Just as history remembers

a notion of a plot long past

but few of the inessentials to fill it.

We had waited long

for the days we no longer had to lurk

underground in the shadows

drinking enough to drown

hiding from cops

with a sixth sense

capable of tasting our breath.

We never realized the danger

Or saw the specters that hid from us.

Though whispers reached our ears

speaking of murder, rape, and death,

we were young

and to think too long on such things

was not for us.

There was no death.

We saw only life.