i don't want to live with my fear of death
like it's the unwanted guest at my table,
who is in my fridge, eating my food,
corroding my mind in every waking second.
i want the paradox of living and not living
to sit next to me on my couch,
drink tea and chat,
converse in a way that is fruitful.
if i let my fear and hopelessness over death
take me with it,
i will not only not have lived this life,
but wasted it to find nothing.
no one will benefit from my gut wrenching thoughts and nightmares,
especially me.
no one will come inside and trim the weeds.
even if it pains me,
there's a reality to face,
a new way of seeing life,
a question that will remain unanswered by my consciousness,
and can only hope
my soul bares the burden
and maybe, in my sleep,
my second-self will soothe me.