Death is a Terrifying Thing - Hotel Books

Death is a terrifying thing

I don’t know if it just means I’m getting older, but every day just seems more

real

I don’t dwell on it like it’s a monster under the bed that’s out to get me

I have much more reverence than that, I-I just fear it

Like I fear God

But, death has become another taboo topic, where simply asking questions are

considered ignorance or considered stupidity

But, the problem is, when I was a kid, I come from such a big family

So it means that a lot of people died in my life

And even though I’ve been to a lot of funerals, I still don’t get it

I still don’t understand what happens, and I definitely don’t understand why we

have a ceremony for it

I was told it was to celebrate life, but we did that when we were living

So when I die

Burn my body into ashes and use them to fertilize the tree in front of the

funeral home that used to be my church

The one across from the car dealership on Henderson in Porterville, California

The one next to La Mission De Jesús, and make sure the tree hears you say, «You brought the most joy when I was a child, because you provided a place to

exist outside of the walls I never understood»

And promise me that the tree will someday die, too so she can see me again

I still get caught up thinking of death I’ve seen

When I heard my grandmother died, my mom didn’t say, «Hey, grandma’s dead,» or «Sorry, son, but Grandma’s passed,» she said, «Son, your grandma’s with the Lord

now.

She then continued, she’s no longer in pain, she’s no longer sick,

she’s finally at peace, she’s finally happy.»

I guess if I was there during her final breath, I would look at her and say, «Thank you, your happiness gives my pain a purpose, I love you.»

And my quiet resentment

Turns to love I lose

I forgot what you said

I forget what you meant

Quiet resentment

Turns to love I lose

I forgot what you said

I forget what you meant

I forget what you meant, I’ve been choking on nothing

Choking on nothing again

Hoping for something

Hoping for something to captivate my head

Death is real, I don’t need an augmentation of the way that I think

It’s easy to feel its embrace when your hands are on the edge of a cliff,

looking at the brink of your own defeat

And you’re afraid of real failure, so you live for fake success

You try to trace behavior in your own tattered dress

Hoping you’ll be in a pine box long enough to feel alive

The irony is that it’s the only way that we can still fight

But the moments that you’ll never have back

I can tell you what I love, but I cannot tell you what I lack

From what I’ve experienced and what I think I can feel

You can’t believe in love, if you don’t believe that death is real