it was raining the day of my mother's funeral procession
how cliché
my baby brother was carrying her coffin up the stairs to the white stone palace while i am right behind, crying with a following of weak whimpering ladies
then she burns and fits right into an ashtray
every waking second i see her purple face and disoriented eyes and swollen belly and rigor mortis with arms bent awkwardly
she moans and suddenly she's slowly falling from the chair and i'm holding her, yelling "mom don't die" but she's gone already, just gone, and i'm screaming and trying to bring her back
we're breathing into our dead mother's mouth but she won't wake, she's getting cold already
no pressure in her chest will do, this pressure that my chest feels too
how can this happen? don't you know she runs everyday, eats healthy, always so lively? that she was finally happy? that she leaves behind a 20 y/o daughter, a 18 y/o son, a husband who's been with her for 25 years, her elderly parents? don't you see how unfair? don't you see it's not right and we'll never know and it'll never heal?
how can life inexplicably gives us our worst nightmare, and no answers to appease, and is it like it is, be strong and all those things
i don't know
i don't care
i keep wishing for something, a sign of any kind, and i never believed but now i feel i just might, i may need a little hope, some light, the idea that you are still by my side
then other times i'm scared of the dark and i fear your dead hand coming to get me, oh god please help me forget
alive or dead you are with me but that can mean many things
and all these noises and in my head,
stop, please, don't be fucking dead
try taking me instead
