by jackson small
@smalljac44 on instagram
I do not want to be mourned
when I am gone from this life,
on to the next, with my feet in the
Ether and the sand, do not grieve, for I will not obey.
I will see every hue, from
this plane thereafter, decorate
my bruises of bereft in
glory and splendor, but I will wish
you were here.
do not lament I, who has
sacrificed for no larger a
purpose than themself
flayed by a rationalizing world,
a planet reaching the zenith
from which it will never revive.
do not sorrow over I, who was not
meant for this Earth, and every nail struck
to the perilous hull of this ark, called by we
to conduct our security, and
let us drink our horrid relief
so he may tell us we merely
hold our cup wrong.
do not bemoan I, who is
liberated, unyoked of
servitude to the false deity within.
heart, pulse as a fiend, tongue, speak what
language you heed and I will attend,
fingernails, grow if you must!
I am denounced by the disingenuous
human circumstance, and my body has
gone cold, so take my
ribs, but leave the rest for the
field mice and the bobcats.
do not mourn I, who is finally home.
a note from the artist-
"when i was writing this poem, i was experiencing a lot and just overall trying to justify my existence in the world that felt like it never really had a place for me. this poem details death, and the desire to leave this planet to find acceptance within oneself."