The funeral was nice, as nice as a funeral can be. Our relatives and friends mumbled in low tones their condolences. I spent most of the day in a trance, a stream of “thank you” and “she was a wonderful women’ fell out of my lips. Those insufferable eyes kept staring into my blood-shot ones. I heard whispers of my well-being. “He’s lost everything” they’d say, “I don’t know what he’ll do now.” I couldn’t stand the thought of those prying questions, an inquisition into my very thoughts. I tried to escape by suspending conversation with a cigarette, but I soon ran out and couldn’t bear the thought of leaving my sister’s funeral to buy some more.






Who is this? A cousin, an acquaintance, a forgotten friend? Who is it that holds a lantern to my heart and sees the sadness? No one. Allison was gone and I’m left a broken shell of the man I once was. My arms tense with guilt, my face falls with sadness. It is my fault and I can’t admit it to anyone. Peter brings me a plate of food and tells me to eat. I sullenly acknowledge his orders and choke on chicken skin. it’s the last time anyone brings food near me. I half humor myself with the idea that I’m bringing this lovely funeral down. I stare at the ground and see a parade of shoes and heels stream by. I try to scrape any possible idea of conversation out of me, but I soon tire of the blank eyes. I was wrong, these are soulless people. Fuckers telling me lies to convince me she is “happy now. she’s in a better place…’ no. no no no no. she’s buried in dirt and I can’t bring myself to do the same this is not fine ITS NOT FUCKING FINE.






A hand brings my body to face the door. Strong arms walk me out. Pushed into a passenger seat, a feminine voice; “you need to get better, it’ll all be fine.” I’ve heard it before ITS NOT FUCKING FINE.



déjà entendu la la la déjà vu o o oh





Arrival at home. More arms bring me inside.



‘You’ll be fine….”






I’m not fucking fine this is not fucking fine.



An apartment without sound. I try to collapse into my bed but my feet disagree. They lead me into a florescent kitchen. My hands find a bottle. I take a drink and some pills and sleep