To Death's Heart (In Three Parts)

Didn’t hallucinate, it wasn’t strange
Inside the lines I drew, been staying in my lane
Wasn’t assigned to me, I’m not to blame
Brown bottles of Jameson, grey ashes in a tray I put out
Got
cancer sick
, got on a plane
Visited the Vatican to watch the pontiff wave
And he say,
«Benedicente, benedicente, benedicente»
On a long hot Sunday
Got to get out of here, I can’t remain
Limbs, they hang like chandeliers from alcohol and age
Down in the weeds again, tough to explain
Mattress soaked in gasoline makes iridescent flames; I lay down
I’ll ask my love, what will she say?
What’s it like to live with me here every fucking day?
But she stays;
«Agotante, agotante, agotante»
In her most gentle way