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.