News of death

There’s always a sudden breeze of awakening that is never blocked by any organ in my body, it passes my mind like the fingers do to a woman’s hair. I feel a certain cold on my nape and draw a deep sigh like I have been hit on the head by shock.
There’s a fluttering wave of questions that begin to bend my tongue as though it is seeking absolutions for the unsaid words from before, then I curse “fuck”.
What it means, I never know, I am suddenly robbed of words, and then pictures begin to swerve my mind, I begin digging memories, the fondest, the ugly, the ones that hurt I quickly put in a trash can in my head and say in a whisper, “is this how we all go with no goodbyes?”
If one’s journey comes to an end, I suddenly feel less of myself, as I too can be like a flashlight that could go off and never to be on. So, I must seek the face of the creator. I must make amends. I must stop dancing with the devil and make the good in me become an immortal technique that will be remembered once I happily land beyond the blues.

Ruddapoet