I mailed a dead guy
asking how he was doing
and I got a message back
that he was okay
and I shouldn’t worry about him
because he had the dying thing handled
but he was worried how I was getting on
and told me to focus on living
because that decided how you die
and while we were both the sum of the stuff of life,
only one of us had life to stuff
and the other was stuffed with life,
which says nothing of the postage costs
from the netherworld
*
Everyone can be a poet
if you just show them
that their lives are miserable
but they can make themselves worse
by scraping themselves
with a blunt pen or fingernail
shedding and shedding
touching the untouched
and when it ends
while they do
they can maybe have a new them
that isn’t them
in the haze and coughs and crap
but a better, pieced together,
less miserable them
*
There are days
I wake thinking I can
do it all
and others when
all I can do
is wake to thinking
and others yet when
all I do
is sleep
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