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Poem

Beethoven,
I love you.

But you play your
Moonlight Sonata
On a bleak night and
I am left-
In my coffin
Bones devouring
Flesh-
Eyes drowning in chasms
Left wide open-
Wearing a black dress
With a white collar
Sweeping dust and talking
To myself

All the delicate Ballerinas 
Of the world
Softly dance with those
Grotesque girls
Who were told they were
Too fat to perform
When they were alive

And the Cavaliers watch from afar- 
As they write poetry drained
With Disdain towards
The Love
They never had and never lost

The Emersons and the Twains
Watch quietly--
The Einsteins, Newtons, and Hookes- 
Scribble formulas on napkins
As they try to calculate
The changing notes your Piano Plays---

The kings quarrel and start a war.

Scared for the life I have already lost I-
Clench to the hand of the
Man next to me
Who died of cancer because he
Swore and drank too much

All our thoughts collide
The piano plays on
Newspapers rot
And it all flashes before me-
The Pharaohs
The Kings
The Wars in the name of God
The poems
The symphonies
Centuries filled with Nothing
People
People
People 

It all flashes before me-
As we die again 
And again

The process repeats itself at least twice-

Until I wake up in my bed,
Shudder,
Take off my earphones
And stare at the 
Empty room around me.

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