Let me lecture you on aging, provoking you to fear, so that I can be a bit alleviated
from being downright frightened of your deaths
I'll push you to the cusp of questioning, regardless of your tenure as my guidance,
if only to keep your mind from forgetting, this stimulation
Smothering you with my presence while you're still vibrant
Marveling at how much I've taken granted your love for me.
And if instilling preset conditions forces you to live longer,
I'd do it everyday.
Giving tours to nursing homes, the putrid stench alone provides my propaganda.
I'll dive head first into my own agenda, it's what my throbbing heart, at just the thought
has done to me.
The funeral scene, the closed casket shots, the long walk down that aisle
The damp sepia toned photographs, the inescapable scent of your green oil,
it's almost manic these panic attacks of involuntarily abandoned by you
the not so far reality on this crimson brick road of letting you go,
I'm prematurely bracing myself.
Why? Because I am weak.
When the time calls, I won't be ready,
I won't be ready for this.
Saturday, October 25, 2008