[dead man]

i mean

They said it was time. we had to gather our clothes
silks and satin and soda bread. towels and napkins and bowls
sandy remote tent oasis city, scavenging soulfully
always asking our questions waiting for answers They hold
mudroad backwoods and cola. wormhole our galaxy's distant
tracing back our sins to practice pattern prevention
adolescent wanderers. They've led us to madness
scores of loyal Bodhisattva in a temple of trash
putty in Their hands. gelatin, the shell of man
crowdfunding dark nirvana, down like 70 grand
so here we stand. They said heaven was a place we could visit
with a basket and a rubber ball and helium gas
may we pass on peaceful when our ascension collapses
reenacting folklore in our icarus masks
any pressure and depressiveness a thing of the past
They said it was time. we echoed it back.
slow mutation our collective inertia, virgin rebirth
a void to fill with homily and letter and verse
gospel of Death. the Call came when our daughter was 7
we had 48 hours to either launch or defect
and we left. the Voices called behind us. haunting as ever
is it worse to die as one or outlive all of your friends?
we walked and wept. darkness crept. mountains and streams
creekwater frogs and centipedes. acres of greenery
tasting freedom, slowly but surely. a day and half
had past before we took a break and finally looked back
climbed a path, found a grassy clearing. stared at the sky
where all our friends were floating towards their final goodbye
a family stood nearby. picnic baskets and boxes
laughing zooming photo lenses, snapping their shots
we turned our backs. it hurt too deeply to watch
but that sound still pierced the world as
the first balloon popped.