Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

July 14


Wales



It is safe for the houses to sleep in the streets, but not for me. I cannot follow that which is so right and regular for mundane things. I am a jagged piece and it is hard for me to find my place.

The sun comes though everyone’s windows and peeks around the blinds left down. I must mind my manners and not be a nuisance or a bother; draw no undue attention to my brightness carry a basket to hide it in.

And while every river can drown its sorrows in the rush of the downhill sweep to the sea. I must stand here stock cold sober and bear the pain appointed to me.



Curl your fingers into the tangles of life and hang on

*



WAKE

Don’t worry that you might spoil the procession
By getting out of your coffin.
You don’t need to lie there waiting for the lid to close.

People will walk past saying ---so sad---too bad
But don’t lie instate just to keep them from feeling
Their trip was a waste.

Just because the crypt has been purchased
Doesn’t mean you’re ready to go.
There are still opportunities to dance.

Don’t die for love, glory or pride.
Don’t die before your time.
Death is only an honor
If you lived every preceding second.