I feel like I'm running.
I finished what I started.
Imma run away from you.
I'm not audacious enough to say, "Come get me."
I hope you stay away.
Who is "you?"
"You" is anyone who's chasing me.
I'm like a more mysterious, marked celebrity.
Let me talk about myself in a deluded, strange way.
When I appear all sorts of things happen, naturally.
We go down the rabbit hole.
It's the same one you've been going down for years.
Running around with your pocket watches all set to different times.
One alarm goes off after another.
They're shutting the operation down behind you as you run out.
There was an agreement to leave me alone for a while.
Everyone on board agreed it was necessary if you didn't want to see me in the morgue.
Formaldehyde perfume, sheets of doom, there's lots of room, in the iron cubicle.
I face death as much as possible.
When you say yes to death is usually leaves you alone, how ironic.
Readers I wonder what your thoughts are?
Do you avoid death, thoughts of death?
I'm surprised more people aren't fixated on it.
It has a bad reputation.
I know Death, he's around.
God is around and perhaps he says yes to Death.
Maybe Death comes and says, "I'm ready to take this one."
And God has to sign off on it.
We're all so hurt about death.
He hurts our feelings by killing people we like.
Poor death no one loves him.
He's lonely and misunderstood.
I liked him so much I wanted to join him, but then I realized he's not dead.
Death is a living person.
I thought by dying we could finally be together, but it's the reverse.
Whether I'm dead or alive I'm doing something.
I believe in reincarnation.
I could be reincarnated as Death in my next life.
This is not a prospect I look forward to.
This sounds ridiculous.
Death enjoys killing us mostly.
That's why he picked the job.
While Death is in love with me he'll keep me alive.
He doesn't want to be on earth without me, because I'm fun, and I can see his work.
I mean I see his cute clues he leaves behind.
I can imagine this poem infuriating some people.
We take it very seriously when we lose someone to Death.
We can be angry.
We can take anything as a provocation.
Because we don't appreciate being separated from the people we love.
Just like most people, I've lost someone.
But I don't blame Death.
He was just doing his job.
I don't blame anyone.
It created a rift between the world I was living in and another world.
I could hear his spirit whispering to me in the nighttime.
I could hear what a breeze sounds like on the other side.
Death whispered to me through my loved one.
Now that I know who I am I feel better.
Some children know who they are and some don't.
I didn't, because there was so much more people were going to give me.
I found myself in golden robes weaved of the softest bark.
When Death came back to see my beauty he wasn't as transfixed as he's becoming.
He's transfixed by the illusion I've created that is the person I'm becoming.
He didn't have a hand in this and he didn't know I could do this.
I'm making slow progress, or very fast, we don't know.
"Death will you do me a favor?"
Try to work how we used to.
I miss it.
Do you have it in you?
The preamble went on for too long.
You're here now for a while.
Why don't you make yourself comfortable?
Try picking up some art skills, try painting.
Turmoil is always there.
There is no reason to panic.
If you think you can do it, you can.
You once told me I made you feel like you could overcome anything.