For You on Your Dead Birthday
Today on your dead birthday
think back to the secrets
kept, the milli lies
crafted for
self-preservation, self.
Past working
To uphold labels
That felt relevant
All that time ago
Knowing better now,
Knowing that things can get
Better now, better than
They were.
Now time has ended,
holding kite strings to you
In the sky in molecular structures
wanting to believe in a hybrid
Of the two.
You will never spend another moment
Thinking in this space
About the things you’ve done.
Unless there is something we
Don’t know yet that says different
I suppose it’s just.
Being here
Existing, in exit
Watching time dot each of us
Porous filling with emotions
And filling with duplications
Reconstructions of those passed
Memories, connections,
the aggregate expanse. Those things that
Make me twinge, with, recalling
Masturbatory images and thoughts
Only desire could convey.
You really build empires in your absence.
You have here at least. So happy birthday,
I guess. Those gold star memories are
Unraveling with age. When I realize the
Profundity of experience.
Damn. Never thought I’d write a
Poem for a dead guy
More things to think about
and feel disconnected from
And remember none of the
Expectations I had for you then.
In growing slower after self-observation
There is self-determination and craft.
I am relinquishing power to the ghost.