your dad checked
for blood on the bed
yet two creamy identities
lie in his wake
baby deer, an old
soul never grown old
young wobbly knees
forever need stitching
pissing off the sun
was never the mission
but here we are
weeping at a funeral
that was meant to be a wedding

now I am standing next to a corpse
I am dressed like shit
the least I could’ve done is dangle
from another man's tear earrings
but this here is beyond stupid
and all I wanna do is run
with my eye sockets propelling
forward constantly,
rapidly,
miles ahead of me
ahead of time

from here on out
I’ll play my alarm
throughout the day
to remind myself
it could be worse
I could be waking up
I could be weeping at a funeral
that was meant to be a wedding