over

it pains me to try and remain sane when i'm the only one leftover
solely striving to stay sober,
can you do me a favor and humor me by crossing over
to this plane?
can you invade this pane in front of where i lay,
drain my veins and replace the remains with liquid icosane?
let this wax collapse - flat, detached and mundane...

and as it dries i'll watch the time as i fly by
see sea blue hues move beautifully through the sky
glancing back through this cool, smooth opaque i'll try and view the memories of my

daughter, as she was
growing up and throwing up from sharing her first a swig and
throwing up a bit more from bearing her first kid
until she heaves and breathes and squeezes,
just like her mother did.

her son, running across and around corners, clutching diamonds, trying to
come home
and eventually running 'round diamonds, clutching crosses and sliding
toward home...

and, oh, at about 6pm on june 6th, an officer will call a phone and visit a home,
saying a young guy just out of his teens came flying down the street doing about 23 over limit speed,
saying he remembers seeing something in the passenger seat and hearing the breaks screech, followed by a slow, soul-shattering scream,
something or someone?
i remember, you'll both lift me up out of this horrid dream,
croon me as i swoon from downing the contents of this bottle,

and out of here, we'll retreat...