death poem

these lines are not mine: burn them into memory

burn, burn, burn  the water

burn this body out of its realm so I can be reunited with my cosmic love

burn my memory of attachments to names and spaces

the cortex is uniform in sight, sound, smell, language

so spirit is elsewhere, un-burn-able

burn the cortex, burn the spirit

burn the lively zealous souls dancing around you

burn the boyfriend without earnest soul, drop drown dead diving

burn sarcasm, and maybe the loneliness and self-hate hiding holding handing over

burn even the crisp dark black blotches leftover begging for ceasefire

then burn you and your face and your smile and your photos in public spaces and places

no maybe just

burn the photos, and then some candle light, for prayer

burn the Bible and the Q’ran and the Popol Vuh

burn the mad people with beliefs that run soul tired tongue-tied torn

burn the dead people burn ghosts that haunt our pasts

burn future fear findings falling in love

burn me into the infant i once were, crawling and waiting to wake the world into being



Author: oligothoughts

poetic hermit

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