there’s pressure
beneath this existence:
splintering
the boarded up walls warping
the foundation
providing no security or time
to ask questions or
listen for answers.
only to see and know
what it is to exist. to breathe
what is right in front of you.
put your ear to my chest
just once before
it stops beating;
become familiar with the sound
of the world
coming to an end.
i found you
three days after you died.
i walked into your office and
found you hunched over your desk,
your face deteriorating
into your coffee mug.i picked you up and threw you
over my shoulder.
your knuckles dragged on the sidewalk
the entire walk home.we wrapped you
in all your favorite scarves and
put you in a coffin
filled with salt-water taffy.
while they sang ‘der voghormia,’ i growled,
and the sky echoed me.i growled
at your scarves and your
salt-water taffy and your
face. for the first time
in years, you looked peaceful.
i growled and growled until they
started shoveling the dirt in.the sky boomed on the drive home.
i saw your face in the windshield,
contorted into a sneer, your eyes
glazed over, your nostrils flared.your face in the ground,
so pale, so silent, so peaceful.
so peaceful.
Silenticel 