"don't kill me yet"

 

most of the time i'm talking to myself
or my lighter after some fresh air
because i know that no matter what
in the end
i've banded everything i've done and used
together in a misconstrued and slightly politically correct yet conceited way
to kill myself

and i've never been in denial about it
but it may still be one of the few lies i've told



growing up anything unhealthy; cigarettes, drugs, alcohol
they were as bad as the devil to me
but when i started seeing them more and more
and gave sunday school a break
around six
and why i couldn't figure out why my cousin was suddenly bald
and started having to peak over coffins

the sky was finally clouded enough for me to grasp that there
was a world under it



maybe it was a sad thing that i pieced it together
when lives fell apart
sometimes my dad tells me that i'm lucky to figure out so soon
but other times he'll tell me that i don't know anything
about the real world
and when i do see my mom, it's never something she'll talk about
and i'm okay with that

because she really doesn't need to
after a while it doesn't matter what important people say



my grandparents will soon be dropping like flies
and their kids who have lost kids are going to end up even more fucked
and this time
even i won't try and get anything out of it
but i might take a beer bottle, a lighter, some memorabilia
very dear to blurry trauma
and give a kiss to every sad eye

and write "don't kill me yet" on their gift
and hope that it means more to them than it does to me