The peppermint propaganda you sit and read on your beach house porch on some lonely ocean moon watching the past drift in and out like the tide of your miserable lonely forgotten life. The sun reflecting off thousands of diamonds buried beneath the hot sand that rarely breathes moist air despite its taunting proximity to the ocean. Your mind wanders and you think of the battles you’ve won with ships, with words. As you contemplate the medals you’ve earned and the worlds you’ve burnt, I drift through space in this coffin on another irrelevant run to sell tobacco to a bunch of tall gray men, delivering leaves to these old unforgiving trees just to watch them burn up. I feel like a patriot walking sinners to the gallows back on earth. What, leaves, have you done to deserve such a harsh end to life? Did you always know this would be your fate? Did you live life with the knowledge of how it would end, not where, not when, but how? At least your ashes will be spread among the stars you reached for for so much of your life, reached for with the humility of a bow, reached for a possibility that was never really possible, without hope, but with peace.
Red Lights.
Red lights are never good.
I don’t understand what red did
To be branded bad, green good.
Stop blinking.
This contrast is too much, my eyes
can’t adjust to the in and out
over and over
The controls.
What’s wrong?
Who gave you that black
eye of broken glass
shards filling the cabin
like fairy dust helping me fly
towards you ever so slowly,
carefully. Another lost boy drifting
homeless if home is a location–
a destination.
That hiss.
Air must be leaking.
The slow sound of death
as life runs like rats
hopelessly jumping ship.
Hurry.
Hurry hurry hurry
hurry hurry hurry
the fingers disobey.
A rebellion of the body
as it awakens in time
to witness the end.
Birth and death hand in hand,
lovers sharing a final embrace.
Oh bright stars!
Oh guiding light!
Come close, comfort me.
Envelop me in your
warmth one last time.
The ship
is dissolving
into darkness
but you
haven’t
abandoned
me.
I’ve reached
and
finally
have
touched.
Automated Mental Impression (AMI) for unknown being recovered 5 Dec. 326 G.E.





