Dear Life,
You cheated, and left things behind.
A jumbled mess of random shit
stuck to my mind, enlarging the frame
to capacity. My disfigured torso, bent
under the weight of what could be
dismembered but isn’t for symbolic
purposes. The maggot stuck to my chest
causes my bloodshot eyes to strain as
I try to count the number of times
it wiggles trying to get free…
I think I’ll have it stuffed with
ideas, and maybe squish it into a
small picture locket. I’ll hang it from
my neck to show that I have conquered
death, or at least a small squished white
symbol of it. Show it off to my friends and
they’ll say, “Man, I think it’s leaking
creativity or puss.” Same thing really.
To me, it’s just another piece of
jewelry (or life?) that’s weighing me down.
Maybe someday, when you turn full
circle and my body lay rotting in
a pile of thoughts, trying to get free the one
they lost so long (or soon?) ago,
I will be seated in a folding chair
in a great cathedral, wondering
“Is this what I have been waiting for?”
My back would ache from the uncomfortable
slouch I have grown so accustomed to
wearing, and all I can hear are bells and
nonsense combining to make a melody that
sounds similar to the whimper of a
dying breath. This is what I have been
waiting for? Are you serious?
Where were the signs? Shit,
I should have known that the burning
smell was a burnt out light bulb as I
stumbled down that pitch black tunnel,
but hey, when I reached the end I was
just glad that the smell wasn’t hell.
But no, you have not left me yet and
for that I think I am grateful. Maybe I’ll
see you around sometime when
you’re in a better mood.
With best intentions,
-Ben