Friday, March 31, 2017

i had a dream you died.

i screamed
at the memorial, collapsed, crumbled, i was wearing a 
Disney T-shirt and 
nag champa incense permeated the room. it was half 
opium den and half high school
auditorium and
moratorium and your face plastered on projector, aromatic haze, the kind of breathing
which is not breathing, the kind of nightmare
without monsters.

they carried me out,
a drunken party guest,
a mourning village,
a room full of strangers, 
and me, tearing my clothes,
a weeping stranger.

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