After Life

I do not wish to go to heaven,
as I do not wish to remain myself.

Just last night I felt a burning in my ears,
as I danced clumsily through tables in my own usual fashion,
glasses smashed, drinks were spilled,
all the while I continued to pour out nonsense to uncomfortable faces.
Among the faces were ex-partners,
with whom come a whole new set of mundane thoughts,
of arguments, of affairs, of lies and truths,
that I would rather were buried with me.
In eternity I could find fault in even the kindest things I have done, I’m sure

As a child the kettle left proof of it’s heat on my hand,
and through my life I’ve gained much other evidence of my time on Earth,
just as I do not want to sit boiling in my regrets,
I have little wish to sit in this vessel for eternity.
Tell me what a sullied body has for golden baths filled with holy waters.
It would be unfair to say that there is nobody “up there” I wish to see again,
But I could stand to be around none of them forever.

When my mind had more innocence, reincarnation frightened me.
I saw no prosperity in living without memories of our loved ones.

I have been warmed by the arms of lovers,
lovers who have later left me colder than I was before I knew of them,
I have seen a beautiful soul,
abuse her vessel until her skin clung to her frame,
I have seen this brutal earth take seeds barely sown,
to leave loyal homes with barren gardens,
and gives fruitful gardens to the Judas’s of motherhood.
I have seen a fire with good cause extinguish itself.
She now wonders the same path apathetically, although the zombie of a martyr.

Though I carry all of this in a basket, just twenty years weak,
already I know that my basket would unweave,
should it carry the lost lovers, and souls, and answers,
of other lives.
Nature’s only true absolution is the loss of the memories,
that we hold so dear.
Call me an unholy apostate, father,
a turncoat and a traitor to your Catholicism,
for when I rest these ears will hear no more of it.
Just don’t call me a cynic –
For your wish to live but once is far more sinister.

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