funeral.

Today seems like a great day for a funeral.
I awoke with the rain racing its way through my gutters, a series of molecules screaming at one another nosily as they went on by. From my position buried under six foot blankets, surrounded by posters windows to other worlds, I imagined that above my head there would be a gloomy sky.
I was correct. For the third consecutive week, the rain is spilling down from the clouds as they move East to pick up Sulfur so they can eventually drop a weapon that has a chance to make a difference: acid precipitation. Enough to melt the faces from the statues, plenty to kill the bacteria fed on by the fish, eaten by the bigger fish, caught by a man in hip-boots, and then served to his family. The entire worth is about to go to war with mankind, the greatest parasite it has seen to date.
Anyway, back to today being a great day for a funeral. I woke up hoping I would find out that the entire outside world had burned away, taking my cares and obligations along with it. My soul feels heavy in these dead and dying fall days.
Yesterday was a lie, all yesterdays are a lie. A 60 degree apparition to remind us where the upper Midwest is heading in the next month. Where we have been, and how long it will take to get there. Summer has passed and most lovers have parted ways, determining that the thrill of autumn will outlast the emptiness of a barren winter.
This will be the last time I ask you to drown within my sea. Today will be the funeral. I ask that you look back and see where I have been.
Each man holds a novel inside his head, each women etches her own story into her hands. I hope someday, someone, will retell my tales. They are weak and muddled at best, but they exist. They are concrete. They are fluid. Someday this will be forgotten. Eventually, we all will. Our graves will hold our stories, the maggots will eat our fondest memories.
Today is only one step further. One step closer. There will be nothing more here, other than what is already annexed and listed. My memories. My dreams. The ways I have grown and changed. The tract I have taken from being a shivering boy in a black sweatshirt to a being what some would consider a grown man. I still am that little boy. I will never grow up.

I'm off to Neverland, hoping to avoid my last night in the nursery.