Of death
aren't you?

Sick of hearing about it
talking about it
seeing it,
family members
strangers
friends
aunts
uncles
parents
next of kin
all I feel is dread when the phone rings.

Pablo may have been weary
of chickens
but
I've had enough
death
to last a lifetime.

Every night on
the daily news
the death report
reminds me
every time you turn around
there's another tragic story
you're going to hear.

I'm sick to death
of death
in the movies
on
t.v.

You know what I mean.

You know what?
I'm sick of this poem
I'm sick of thinking about death.

It's 8:06
I
declare it officially
dead.

The poem, I mean.

I began as a spot
of mud
flipping off a comets
rushing tail
frozen in ice
I survived the fall
a few moments of
organic molecules
landing on one
vast continent
integrated
into a minuscule
whole
I became alive
alive for this time
and
all time.

But

There were forces
moving inside of
me
call it what you will
continental drift
tectonic plates
powerful forces
which fragment me
over time.

I come together
I divide
but the cycles
don't stop there
like our love
as all these
parts and particles
slam back together
in a single mind.

Pangaea!  I once
called you home
it was the only place to be
I knew who
and what I
was
but I have become
divided and split
even my dreams are
fragments of scattered
lands.
My center can not
hold for long
as competing desires
beg to be known.

As eternity picks
me up and sends
me on my way
as I scatter back
to those solar
winds
disintegrate to
a spot of DNA
whisked off this
planet
and arrive on
the back of a
sailing comet
frozen for eons
long
to once again
through happenstance
fall
onto a foreign
planet -
home again to
my private
Pangaea
unity
begins the
cycle
all over
again.

I turn to approach anywhere for a person who could be my friend. A close friend.
I am surrounded by acquaintances. I am blind. I cannot feel the presence of a friend, no-one to lend.
I plead with a tender sense of hope in my eye, I crave to change myself for others to accept me. I want someone to scream with me.
Scream,scream and scream until I feel their presence.
Scream, scream and scream until I feel of some value.

No one wrote me love songs
No one gave me peace
And no one showered me in happiness
More than you before you ceased.

But no one shouted hatred
No one gave me tears
And no one ****** my dreams in darkness
More than you, confirming fears.

Now no one writes me love songs...
And no one gives me rest...
But no one drives me insane
And that's why separation is best.