Dying’s Not The Done

Give me it all I’m taking it all

the nights of worry and days of pain

I’m giving ’em all away.

My ventricles wacky-waving-inflatable-arm-flailing-tubeman and my hands crafting a cherry wood heart for you my dear dear friend.

There’s a guitar string stuck sideways in me. Pluck it and I’ll vibrate my eyes out for you can have ’em dear. My eyes are yours. My ayes are yours. My I’s are yours.

If there’s no honey in my words, why do they taste like sweet lightning every time you’re listening?

If there’s no music in yours, why am I signing?

I; Atlantic hung. You; Pacific swum. A vibration between us and I’m a shark hunting your blood. When I bite, you die.

But Dying’s not the done dear. It’s just the begun.

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