Joseph Thompson will never see 1612 Willows Drive
of Lexington, North Carolina again,
because life is an entangled mass of hugs and daggers
that left him lifeless with a smile on his face.
Death engulfs my throat as his stiff hand rests under mine.
A ticking clock intrudes on my thoughts
and the magnitude of black is overwhelming.
The smell of the bathroom soap lives in my nose.
It looks like a never ending winter.
A demapped loved one is cause for a family reunion of sorrow,
because people enjoy eating stale cookies while looking at dead bodies.
“Is that him? I’ve never seen him wearing that before.”
For me to see his face, I’ll have to remember his name.
I woke up from this nightmare in someone else’s body and mind.
The extended chamber of misery lives on
and I am as relaxed as a jockey in his final race against time.
The unhappy bouquet is starting to wilt and
Rosalie wants to escape
to live the white-picket-fence life.
Buenos noches mi amor.
The casket closed its eyes and let out its last breath.
Created: Jul 24, 2010Document Media