darkness hides in
the skylites
and when stars shoot by
i mistake them for headlights.
i have been avoiding the
brown house
for fear i will see his body under a sheet again
noone knows i saw him.
laying under white sheet
his body stiff but loose
he spoke too soon.
hang the tarps from the trees and
basketball poll.
so noone will see
the death you force upon yourself
and others.
and i find myself thinking about him constantly.
never knew who he was,
just.
felt him.
saw him dead.
an image burnt into my eyelids
forever.
and these days.
when I look to the sky
i am praying for
the stars to be headlights
speeding towards me
hopeing one might hit me.
dead on.
and mine could be the body
under the sheet.
10:36 pm - 19.03.04
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