Bring me Magic | Dec 08 2009- i imagined my death too often and too many times.
I stood in my own funeral, like a ghost. I whispered to each and everyone who attended the ceremony(hopefully there will be someone): you are one of the beneficiaries on my will, after you get my money, go to gamble away all my possessions, like some Native American tribes do.
Then I want to have my body flattened, dried and pressed into paper, so it could be made into a book of poems. ×÷Ò»±¾ÈËÆ¤Ê飬ÈËÈâΪֽ¡£
I whispered, a violent whisper, whisper of death.