The dead cannot have desires

When I no longer hear my surroundings,
When I no longer can see the different colors that make life and instead see either the dark or light,
When I no longer give out carbon dioxide and pollute this Earth,
Does that mean I’ve managed to fly to the moon?
Where sound cannot be transmitted.
Where it’s difficult to breathe.
Can I safely say that I’ve lived another life just to be given a second chance on my favorite planet?
Can you tell me Death is still not here yet?

I plead not guilty.

Every time they come knocking on my door,

I kick them out,

They come barging in like its their territory,

and I drag them out like garbage bags.

They enter and trespass, and I’m the one who’s charged for ignorance.

The judge sides with them, and I know Life is the name of that judge.

Death befriends me, knowing we’ll be companions soon.

I’m given a deal to admit that whoever’s pressing charges exists,

in return I’ll live peacefully and they’ll let me go.

They lie.

They’ll be like germs. Everywhere.

I throw the deal at their despicable faces,

and they beat me up till I bleed. Pain.

They want to inflict pain.

Pain is what I’m made of, idiots.

You threaten me, but I won’t budge.

I won’t welcome the emotions that I won’t admit.

I’d rather live in a cell alone than confirm that they exist.

I landed.

I took a chance, 

 and closed my eyes. 

 I fell right from the edge 

 of all seven skies. 

 And I have safely landed 

 on the rugged ground, 

 Heartless, cold, 

 alone and unbound. 

 I could have sworn 

 I saw a man. 

But all I see now is myself 

in this shadowed land. 

Barefooted on a coarse 

and thorny earth. 

If I bleed crimson roses

I will endure and rebirth. 

(Note: this piece is a continuation to “Just When”, a poem I wrote on January)