novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- burned into don't you want the world to know about you, your past, your present, and your day dreams about the future? not the whole world but your microcosym of it, your whole world. your loves ones and their lives. thousands of eyes and shaking hands. punkers milling around the parking lot of the funeral home, people i haven't seen in seven years, smoking and trying not to cry, passing out pins with his picture on them. i cried openly among all these scenesters, my hair in my face. i put a pin on my sweater and hugged T until he started sobbing in my arms. i'm not so worried about what happens to us when we die, now. i saw a dead body for the first time wednesday, and this image is burned into my corneas: an old friend laid out in his favourite jacket, patches and all. his closed eyelids slightly sinking into the corners of his face. the seam where they sewed his head back together after the autopsy. i touched his hand to say goodbye and felt leather, someone else's tears. 5:34 pm - 01.24.03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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