seasons/ 64

It’s the middle of summer now, 

but nothing has changed, I 

attend funerals like they’re 

parties, receive bad news like

they’re just the rent I pay for 

living, look cancer in the face 

and then look away- being alive

isn’t as much fun when you 

know what awaits you at the

end, being alive isn’t as much

fun when all the people you

know are on the other side of 

the grave, it’s the middle of

the summer now, and the

sun glares at the earth with a

passion everyone feels, the 

scorching heat hits my back, 

burns me to shreds, but nothing

has changed- no matter what 

season it is, I’m still burying the

dead, still unable to move on.

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