A journal of TMI

Thinking about my death today

My death will probably approach with bloody fever/ impossible chills
And stab me in the lungs with a rasping cough

Or retch – a convulsion either way

That ruptures suddenly what was already unraveling

The truth is I have a mild cold and

The insight from this – provided by

Over the counter medications

That don’t reveal whether they have helped

Or not

Shows me how it all will end

Without recourse

Or devices

It’s inevitable

But I want one thing

Give me this

I want more of course

All that can wait

This must come first

Give me this (I demand it)

One second

Of understanding

Of my mother, my father

The people I have loved (rightly or wrongly)

Let me understand my son, my wife

My siblings

My friends

Everything I have seen and done 

Just as the brain explodes

With the knowledge that it’s over 

I want to go: 

Ah – that’s what it was all about!

But give no priority to my pet mental projects

I’ve worked hard enough on them

They will fall into place on their own

Not before the next time I sneeze

To be sure

But maybe before I die – and if they wait until then 

Then they can wait until the last portion of the last second of understanding

Or be damned into unconsciousness. 

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