i love you. when my body goes, i will still love you.

i talked some death tonight. death is lovely and horrible and lovely. let us face it. it is painful as fuck, but there is nothing more beautiful. even the young are more beautiful, are most beautiful, because they died recently. they carry that glistening dew from before; the wet caress of death that glistens to life until time too dries away the morning of remembrance to the expansive whiteness that hides behind the expansive blackness. oh my jesus it is all so beautiful. i will take the pain and the shock. i will bury my loves one by one. death is not the end of the music but the silence that follows: the silence in which the music resonates. the memory is itself a passing stage. the experience itself liquefies and stores itself in my bones. that is what bones are for: to pretend we have shape and structure and an uprightedness to share with life. all our hardness is a joke life has lived too long to laugh at. inside we are all tender to the touch. inside we all quiver when death and life swirl around us. every moment we are living and every moment we are dying. how can this be unless they are the same thing. i no longer say my father died. i say he lived. and then he was done living. these words didnt die from my fingers. they just. stopped.

i love you so fucking dearly. baby, i will always love you for living how you do.