i’m saving the speech ‘cause i’m bathing in grief
(caged in, it keeps me from aging in peace)
standing, sensing the sand sitting beneath my feet
(this shit finally making my misery complete)
it puts us through our paces,
suspending our speculation in resignation from futile chases.
he rolled our snowball down the hill, was gone before the blanket melted
i’d like to say i feel him still, but new year’s is the last i felt it.
i remain in the same places,
tormented by cognizance that you had left these mortal chases.
i’m disillusioned, unfulfilled,
imprisoned by blueprints instilled,
fighting the facts and disguising the past,
choking my thoughts, trying to detach,
fighting the truth and hiding the proof,
swallowing all of these memories of you.
leaves drop down, change green to brown, and brown to gone.
“the seasons change”, those tired clichés, “everything eventually fades”
but it’s fucking true, it’s taken you with more to come.
i miss your grin, i miss your chin, why can’t you fucking live again?
there’s only eight of us left, i can feel us molting,
letting go of the hands that we’ve all been holding.
it fractures our wholeness: these worn gears of closeness
that deprecate, devastate, decimate, desecrate
in a natural pattern of reworking matter,
unconscious, irreverent, unfeeling, unhesitant.
everything south, bereft of breath, with only an afterimage left.