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The World Is a Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die



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The World Is a Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die

If And When I Die

no one is invincible, no one is immortal
these are the rules.
fireworks have scared me shitless for three years now
easier to blame it on neuroses than admit that everything loud and sudden scares me now
but i found out i still love the sight of them
when the light of the setting september sun came through the leaves in scattered shards i was driving down the highway with my secrets.
no one is invincible, no one is immortal.
this time of year always reminds me of mitch
at noon in the shade there's still dew on the grass
the leaves are trying on the coats they'll wear to their funerals and without knowing it, as if it is coded into me i start to listen to 'people without end'
the ways in which one leaves a place and the way a ghost becomes a part of you
and some days this reminds me more of kyle than anything else and the times we spent wishing for the past
i think i'm through with that now
i've got holes in me big enough that sometimes i can barely stay afloat but i'm starting to find that nothingness has the potential to be filled with anything our mind's can imagine.
everyone here's story has been everyone here's story since the big bang
and no i'm not talking about your parents fucking, or even their parents' parents' parents' fucking
i'm talking about that fact that the things inside of you, the ones that matter
cannot be created or destroyed anymore
not since this universe started and not until it ends.
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that's how long we're going to live.
so when my body chooses to become something more
burn it
let the liquid in me dry up
let it crack like the leaves coating the driveway of the house i grew up in
divide me among the people i've loved
and ask them this:
on the day they find a place where stars are safe from everything but the brightness of the moon
scatter my ashes there so that that from which i came can witness that which i've become.
no one is invincible, everyone's immortal.
If false and naive ideals will keep us working,
sustained by people like you,
like a televised old story,
maybe that is what one
is meant to have,
sucking from the maimed and the crazed.