A Better Place
Tell me how my brother who death knows so well,
came to visit me and covered me with shame, when
in a dream last week, he told me that I reek.
Him looking the same as he did the year he
went to the other side, made me wonder if after we
go, do we continue to flow in dreams by those alive?
Sometimes I want to choose to die, so that I’ll know where
I’ll go once I shake hands with death. Maybe I’ll discover
what I believe are lies about God aren’t that at all.
My brother floating around should be proof to me that
there’s another side where our spirits go, but something
inside of me refuses to believe what I perceive.
If it’s true that we live after we die, I wonder where
it’ll be. How long will it last? Every night that I lay
down to sleep I want to disconnect my brain,
because I’m in pain and have the blues. I drink some
booze and take some pills, but continue to dream of a
place that’s much better than here where there’s no fear.
I made a lot of mistakes, had lots of bad breaks. Life
has been cruel and full of despair, but once I sleep and
travel to that other place a smile creeps across my face.death.after life > poetry