RCS – Business Default

Dear Death,

 sometimes you pushed me so hard, yes

 I wanted to be anonymous, surrounded by blackness

 fly in to a funeral. I wanted a funeral

 I wanted to borrow for the mourning channel

 cry for a future that doesn’t even exist yet

 was overlooked. I wanted to distract myself

 with a ritual so that I wouldn’t have to

 to deal with his sad mischief at

 he thinks I’ve been dying since birth.

 It turned out that it wasn’t you who scared me, but

 liveliness of life. I already domesticated you

 like a little girl when you used to pick me up

 people and animals. Our calves were dying

 I witnessed the sudden disappearance of cows,

 which parents sent between steaks. Meet

 we met when you came to pick up my neighbor

 we changed her clothes, carried her out the window

 out, dug her a cave and baked her cookies.

 Death, you were always so alive among us,

 but today I have a feeling that you do too

 you are slowly dying. We want you instant, na

 fast and sweet. But already the coffee of the concept

 “instant” doesn’t really work as well as it can

 then we expect there to be an acceleration

 of dying and mourning brought true

 taste? Sometimes we could bury the calf

 and brought him flowers and indulged

 ritual, today we wrap it in polyvinyl

 and we wait for the van to take him away.

 There is hardly any human corpse either

 i touch more if i’m already in touch ma

 i see through the glass Everything and everyone

 we want to cremate, including rituals

 farewells and mourning.

 Today I mourn for you, dear Death, for

 your liveliness, because through sadness, fear, anger

 and you awaken your other colleagues in me

 authenticity and you are also my productive kicks,

 when I fall asleep in a tin, instead of noble

 metal. Death, it’s true that you change

 aggregate states of my people and animals, a

 you also combine the incompatible. From all of us

 you squeeze the tears that have already forgotten that they are

 salty and thereby salted and dehydrated

 souls.

 No, I’m not so afraid of dying anymore.

 If I die young, let my neighbor be stingy

 cave, put my corpse in it, above me

 but plant carrots and let them grow

 rabbits rattle. Mourn and cry in public,

 until sorrow will bring it back

 softness and I will remain just a memory.

 And when this one is no longer needed, me

 let go of yourself and live on because you will

 then maybe you too once long dead.