To an Ailing Friend

I.

A week ago I saw you light up
and you relaxed your speech
and dimmed your mind

But the change was hardly noticeable
because of the ground in tar guts
and the consuming decay

And yet for some reason I felt scared
of the passion I witnessed
slowly falling like a flickering flame.

II.

Your smile is kind of slurred now,
like some chalk silhouette made of
milky smiles and wispy hair

And your lungs used to breathe in dreams
like a sweet perfume, an empowering scent
that we both followed like idealistic fools.

But now I see that nature has perverted nature
And your teeth shine like a great monument
to what you once pursued so fervently.

III.

You stare up at the glassy stars and smile
through your romantic eyes, and yet
they reflect back something horribly awry

Rumors of deceit afloat wildly in the wind
and are whispered from ear to ear like some
mist that whistles a sad song of lust.

And I see this everywhere, this sickening
convulsing rotten stench that slides down
my throat like some slimy incomprehensible thing.


IV.

You feel as if your mind is tearing because
of the terrifying nature of being lost
in the beauty of your own thoughts

And your brain freezes when you slither down
into the pits of peaches that you swallow to
ease your snapping synapses and smile

But your grin is but a dirty mask that has
too many stains underneath the surface
to reflect that innocence that I once knew and loved.