A Funeral on Wednesday

Yeah, I look good in suit
and you don't own one.
What else does everybody know? 
It's early and I have too much to do
before I have to sit on the survivor's bench
and watch a parade of daughters,
still shocked and too young to know,
and nothing I can tell them, 
even though I know it all 
and know how long it will be 
before it is real again
and how real it will be. 

It's too many times
and every time is harder,
and holds less reason.
Is it anger or denial that comes first?
What's third and tomorrow is pitching today. 
It doesn't have to make sense
and I don't have to explain.
I don't have to do anything
but pay taxes and die
and I've seen how to die,
so get out of my way 
and let me get this done.
I've got some grief to process
and I don't need your fucking help.

Blueprints

Blueprints

On blueprints drafted before birth

you were planned and crafted

to be my compliment.

The silhouette of my profile,

the mend for my every flaw,

the finished form of this ragged prototype.

On blueprints drafted before birth,

you were created to complete me.

Carefully measured and laid on the cutting table,

every hair on your head

and thought in your mind..

Such perfection in execution

could never be left to fortune.