Out of this world
When you finally stopped
clinging to appearances and
cancer took a hold of your
face, forced its distortions,
beat you senseless, balloon blue, swell
and swallowed you up, left your body
caved to the tunnel at the end
of the light, what was left to do but
sing? Nothing. Not
of this world. You
no longer speak to me.
So i might as well just
leave. You no longer mean to me.
I'm not of this world.
I've got one foot
out the door and I won't be
coming back for more.
I'm out.
Of this world no longer.
The firmament is due, is rent.
Backward falling is Time, bent.
No. Love. Lost. Still.
Nothing ever is what i meant.
I'm not here to fucking reminisce.
