• Have you ever imagined being dead?
    I know I have, every day since I was five,
    Saw a squirrel on the sidewalk, dead,
    In a dream and wondered what it could have meant.
    Didn't care, moved on until I wondered, then,
    For there was an end to books, right? What about me,
    My story -- tell me my story -- know there's an oblivion

    Awaiting, so frustrating not to know. The emptiness
    That comes with going through that thing after life,
    Persuaded, surely, to understand and imagine it.
    And so I did, a kid, aged four. I didn't realize
    At the moment what 'twas I explored, but there 'twas,
    A single thought, a reverie of me, past life. A scary
    Thought in a time I lost all my fear. The concept
    Of an everlasting black, eyes closed on a car ride,
    Hither there, no despair, just a pervading sense

    Of insatiable curiosity. Me. That's me, in a state,
    A lad who forever compensates for friends with
    Contemplation, creates nations in a snap of a flicker,
    Dunno who's sicker, me or those who, in a smile
    And half-a-thought kill kids at a school they've moved on
    From, the fools, how irrelevant, for when I was the age
    Of those dead I was playing with demons and angels
    In my head. My apologies, though really I've none

    For I'm all too aware of when I'm done, the death
    That shall surely come when heart stops beating
    Its bloodied drum, I'll be welcomed in by Death the Lass
    Who waits for me and with thoughts crass yet smiles
    'pon her face will take me to that now-dark place,
    That place after life.