when flying on autopilot
there is this certain knowledge
that you just might crash
while jumping off a cliff
there is that certain recognition
of one’s possible fate
you might just hit water
but what if you hit rock?

head slamming against stone
skull cracked open
the sea shamelessly pulling you in
and you oblivious
carelessly drifting away

this is very much like love
people write poems about love
but no one writes the obituary
when it’s over
and believe me
chances are
it will be over
the only real question is
will you be over
right along with it?


obituaries:

John Doe
a guy who wasn’t afraid to love!
dead at 39
poor dead bastard
oh, he’s still breathing
but he’s dead
the look in his eyes says it all
all the light is gone
his heart is still beating
but it’s dead
chewed up and spat out I tell ya!
a painful mess to look at

services will be held at The Blarney Stone
a grand Irish Pub!
where he can be seen
drinking his way into an early grave

If you [Log In] as a member you can discuss this work with others