The End

I can’t really see the end of it all They preach it to me everyday In silent filled churches, every man for himself in prayer I keep lighting candles for him Maybe Frankie made it out of purgatory by now Death has always been a obscurity A denial, a joke to me Kind of like paletas on long ago summer days Sticky sweet sin melting too fast under the blazing unmerciful heat drizzling youth onto the street I can’t believe I’m this old I often feel like I’m 30 in an 18 year olds body So wise for my age that depression sets in day by day and hope crams hour by hour Like a prescription for death my live ceaselessly demands I hope you know I fill it everyday at Walgreen’s on the corner by my house And when I lay awake at night and it’s 3:45 and I can’t seem to get romance out of my head Romance hates me, kind of like a conspiracy against my prescription If I can love then death is a joke If I loved and he died would it be a joke then? Not really nobody laughed except me When his coffin uttered a dry click and all I could hack out was a laugh that translated into sobs Is that it? That can’t be it, But it was and I still remember sometimes his eyes that crinkled when he smiled Life shouldn’t be this sad Maybe I missed out on Oprah’s favorite’s episode When that Dutch oven was given away to the first row But I keep lighting that candle It doesn’t really matter because if there is an end the candle might still burn but I won’t be here to see it Instead I’ll be waiting at that corner of the street with sugar water coursing through my veins