We Are Already Dead
Poem and Art
We are already dead walking like leaves into the meadow where the mind crumbles. Dreamlike in our meowing, in our procrastination towards extinction. Climbing the ladder of water to reach the invisible nest of the Phoenix. Beauty burns in our eyes like boiling oil and we grieve because grief is the fossil fuel of our cruel machine bodies. We flop like frogs in a puddle of our own rain. Rain passed down from generation to generation water passed down from mouth to mouth kisses that expired two centuries ago. When I sleep, I taste victory. When I awake, I yawn like the lion that holds my head in its mouth. Who is this skeleton so afraid to cross over the thin veil? I am only a gust of wind that carries the citrus aroma of a lemon already squeezed. I am only the steam that rises from the warm hands of blood. I am the first and the last I am nobody because we are already dead.



Life is an illusion. Love this!
Deliciously surreal.