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
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