The Slam: Slammables

and they say he was loved (tw death mention)

by woundedBirds, collarbone city

i am dressed like the funeral:
rushed, the kind that
apologetically delivers invitations at 3am,

all tearstained hospital clothes
and the darkest jeans that can be scrounged up
in lieu of black dress slacks.

it's disproportionately grandiose:
catholic minister, hordes of mourners
(too many
to even fit into the little chapel)
and they say he was loved

it's lengthy, words inadequate:
the only reason anyone will remember him
is because of the beneficiary's wallet

(even so,
he is cremated.

and to think that so much life
can be condensed into such a small box)

the reception is worse (it always is):
jovial and bustling, everything it shouldnt be,
and with plates bursting,
more people stand to talk.

(i don't eat much.)

we're afraid of dying, love:
through those fronts of indifference 
and those who go peacefully
are just as scared
(they go quietly
to ease your suffering.)

(they say he was loved.) 


Author's Note:

.. . so ive fallen into a pattern of writing my shit in a notes app,
revising, copypasting into tungle, revising, and then copypasting into
here and?? good shit


editing doesnt come naturally to me and this is like. the first thing in
my entire writing career that really counts as doing so 

(literally the most id do was open the cicada page when i wanted to
write something and then bang out something sloppy in like 10 minutes) 



This is so amazing... it just blows my mind. I hate editing, too; I only change a poem when I'm forced to, which is silly, but I'm stubborn. Anyway, this is so cool! I love the parentheses.

critiqued by ancient amateur, Gallifrey
Jun 16, 2017

My heart hurts, in an amazing "why would you do this to me" the feels are so real way.Thank you, it is a devestating and beautiful feeling. Touched close to home, <3

critiqued by Red_Headed_Heroine, In A Land Where I Am But A Spec
Jun 16, 2017