Don’t waste a prayer on me…

If you have to pray,

Pray for the little girls and boys, 

Pray that they keep their dreams, 

That they stay young at heart, 

And walk the path of life, with a gentle touch. 

 

If you have to pray,

Pray for my old neighbour,

Who every night puts on loud Buddhist melodies,

In hope of finding salvation. 

 

Don’t waste a prayer on me, darling, 

Don’t. 

 

I’m like a dead tree, 

That doesn’t feel the sour rain falling on it, 

Or the autumn leaves dancing around. 

 

Like Elijah I have to see death,

To feel alive, 

Like dreaming of a post-apocalyptic San Francisco,

Or being awakened by a Japanese earthquake, 

And 20 floor buildings shaking like a kitchen set. 

 

It takes a lot of talent to be happy, 

And I have none.

 

I put my wrist on my ear, 

To listen to the whispers of my blood, 

Telling me to change trajectory.

 

But I still have things to hold on to,

To get me through the day,

My gun, my bible, my cigarettes,

Your image on a blue dress.

The priest of guilt,

Telling me not to get depressed.  

Still, I can’t help but feeling,

Like a catacomb waiting to collapse. 

 

You already gave me enough of you,

If I can’t have anything else,

I remind myself of those,

The smile that doesn’t contain any sinister, 

Yet manages to hide all the insecurities,

And make the world feel a home for a while,

For me that never had one. 

 

Just thinking of you, 

I feel the taste of strawberry on my mouth.

 

But don’t waste a prayer on me…/*54745756836*/