copafeelia

Onward Toward September

When I die
Remember why
And that I swore
To hit the floor
With one last bang
Before I hang
I doubt I'll see
Year 33.

I don't expect
That I will see
The ripe old age
Of 33.
And if I'm wrong
I do implore
God, strike me down
At 34.

How long should I stand in line
To say good-bye to 29?
I never met a year so mean
To make me face the shit I've seen.
When I die
Remember why
And how I swore
To be much more.
Lungs of paper
Skull of lead
Heart of gristle
Empty head.
I've lost the gift of birthday humor
When I poke the pain of swollen tumors.
Broken back
Splintered knees.
Brain infected
with disease.
Not dead yet
But don't remind me.
Looked around,
But I can't find me.