distant goblet
Who will I be when I'm dead?
God, I live too much in my head.
Who will I be when I'm dead?
Or rather who am I in your head.
How do you see me.
Walking down the street, shoulders low, eyes barely holding back tears.
Like, I see me.
In windows, reflections,
mirrors and stuff but.. Different eyes?
I'm not even sure I can picture my disguise.
At least not facing me.
Staring back instead of staring through.
In other words I spend so much time looking, that I don't actually see you.
And death, to me at least, is fascinating.
Because in a sense,
it's a sight all incapsulating.
My eyes will fade and rot but yours...
Yours will not.
Which is why I wonder
Who will I be when I am dead.
And who am I in your head.
What space do I take up?
And when you gaze at my body, lying there...
Un-breathing un-thinking and dare I say un-making Itself,
what will I be to you.
I suspect some will be glad.
And hold a big party and invite all their friends.
"Finally the douche is gone" they'll yell and scream from their houses.
And I kinda get what they mean.
It sucks to be me.
To live with all of this
You know?
Just the guilt of it all.
The shame of existence.
Just the incomprehensible fear of love and dread of loving or being... Worthy of anything really.
But a small part of me hopes somewhere small, the people I somehow helped,
inspired by my failure or god forbid my accomplishments,
will gather together and cry.
Just one tear.
For the person they could just kinda bear being around.
I wonder who I'll be when I'm dead
To be honest I think the question really should be
"i wonder who I'll be when I'm not in my head"
Just to wake up one morning and put my self hating, over heating, time fleeting brain to bed.
And just BE.
But I think even then a part of me would wonder..
"Who will I be when I am dead."
"And who am i, in your head."
With love
INk
round slate
odd stone
green hare
copper steppe