To Having You

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Shingi Mavima

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Isn't it weird
How these bleeding tears mix seamlessly with the distinct of stench of beer
Creating a fear-filled ambience wherein only the patrons of hell may dwell
Fleeting dreams seem further down the street, increasingly distant the harder you squint
While the most ancient terror, no-good hooded reaper, grimly grimaces, grins and rings the bell
When you've done all you could do in ruthless pursuit of life and she chooses to elude you
Those who knew you won't recognize the new you but vow to always be there. like they used to
You're not the you they're used to, so their complements and encouragements only serve to delude you
Conversation's unfruitful, they can't see what you've become, or they just utterly refuse to

A death-smitten look, a half-written book; behold he cooks the unwitting dish of demise
Listlessly sitting in empty room, dimly lit in eerily precise fit to his crimson eye
While prescription pills, previously put away to die now seem inexplicably revived
And play a perfect, spine chilling symphony, the destruction-filled description of his withering life
The beautiful burden of being turned into treachery-tinged terror
Fair-weather foes have forgotten the seasons, watch as this moment turns into forever
Down-trodden tiles tell the tale of the ties that used to bind us together
Rugged irony; soon this rough-edged rope will be all there is to remember
Now I'm standing, despair, dead center, atop almost tipping chair
Legs frail, just barely dangling in thin air
The damned knot of yesteryear menacingly hanging there

In obnoxious invite to the spirit defeated
Pre-heated, deep-seated resentments running havoc on diseased mind
Rewind existence, freeze time, and turn blind eye intently, see what you left behind
An unfinished masterpiece; whole life's work in the making
Oh how late into this diabolical night does the dreamer awaken
To the body of a spirit forsaken, now viciously shaking
While dry mouth froths as the last series of breaths are taken
First the fighting. The intensifying violence. The impending bright light, shining
Crime scene, it might seem. Final eye gleam, goodbye dreams... Then the silence

Here's to the dream, the reaper, and to one hell of a fight
The same bereaved theme from which you have had to choose
The fear-filled, tear stained ambience of the beer-stenched night
Now we lay you to rest dear friend; here's to having had you

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