Slime Chorus

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36 year old me is dead the slime

Took him finally under and all those

Versions of me dead the ones where

I made a better choice or a way way

Worse one my friend from high

School is now incoherent in his

Combination of war PTSD light brain

Damage psychosis and whatever

Drugs he used to take (all of them)

The slime chorus enters now forte

His mother cries and thinks of

Committing him it would be easier

It would be easy to hope for a way

To cure him but the brain’s strange

Wires can’t be rewoven my brother

Used to worship this guy mainly

Though because he could get weed

When many of us kids in high school

Could barely get alcohol I value

Friendship but it looks different in

The rear mirror not as close as it

Seems fading into a colorful mesh

Of trees and late evening light

18 year old me is dead too I doubt

I’d be able to stand hanging out

With him for long my friends did

Strangely I tried too hard I’m trying

Too hard now my friend wanted video

Of him calling his psychiatric nurse

He thought it would be funny

He cried suddenly about friends

Dying in war who didn’t want to go

On the nurse paused said he seemed

More manic than usual would he

Like his dose upped he set me on

Fire when we were kids flames

Crawling up my legs was that

Funny everybody there laughed