Death and Dying

[rowens]

Learning how to die is a long course.
If anyone I loved died,
I'd hate them till my dying day;
and beyond if I find there is yet more.

I hate Jesus for dying,
though he died for me.
People I've known, personally,
I will hate more.

I think about dying more and more each night as I get older.
I used to dread others dying;
now I think I might die, too.

Last night I awoke around 3:33am,
it was dark, as one might expect;
I had to piss out all the water I drank
to save me from a hangover this morning.

I've always been alert,
sensible and cautious.

I stepped outside, I pissed;
I looked up to the stars.
No one was around to kill me
or try forcing inside my door
or break my windows

as I lay back down in bed,
in the dark.
I didn't see any ghosts,
though I kept opening my eyes,
not exactly hoping to see
something staring back at me.
But nothing was there anyway.

I used to worry about what my grandmother would think
when I masturbated.
That was when I believed in Heaven.

Now I don't care what she thinks
because she's dead.
And it serves her right.