So, this is how it ends,
all the happy things, all the trees, bees,
and butterflies to look at.
They all go away,
for that last golden hour, internal power
failure, and I fade away.
No more snackcakes,
or midnight coke binges, or cringes
when the teacher says "test!".
No more puppy dogs,
or sad-sad songs, or psychic bongs
to pass the day away.
No 6 o' clock news,
or the feeling of a hug, or coffee in a mug,
to elict a smile on my lips.
And
I
Go
Away,

Digging
my
own
grave.

02/08/2002

Posted on 02/08/2002
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