eras ending in minutes, 

snap decisions? 

but i haven’t finished living. 

it’s the beginning,

of the end,

of the beginning, 

of another end. 

understanding the truth of absolute irrelevance

redundancy, exactly the 

same as a rain dance! 

a prayer for rain on a Friday,

or Sunday, 

at home for the weekdays.

dry drought and 

dry mouth 

in a desert, 

cracked feet

in a forest.

trees of mold and broken flowers;

statues of bones and spirits devoured.

fields of dead men and

bloodied women.

memorials for the lost

but never for the, 

“i haven’t finished living.”

thieves in the night 

eating at your time 

for dinner 

with fine wine, and for culture clash

(with that extra cash),

aging cheese on a platter!

check please (before the blood splatter). 

i’m tired of this disease, 

this unease(y) allergy, 

a sickening and

queasy, 

throw up 

clean up 

there, i’ve made your lunch.

we’re all done with that someone 

and there’s just this something 

that’s not working. 

implode then explode then feel dumb, numb, redundant.

moving my body,

letting the heavy air sit again,

letting love in?

i can never win, 

oh my sins 

i haven’t finished living!

tips of my lips and fingers, 

they’re curious beings, 

fetishes and fine finishings. 

we are all quite misleading, 

barely breathing,  

throw me a lifeline, i’m seizing. 

a faith to believe in or

a live-in identity maybe. 

a home for my demons,

a garden for my snakes, and hives for my honey bees.

eat an apple then 

ask Eve,

why am i here and why can’t i leave?