my best friend is ashes now.
my future holds the same:
little grains of dust in the air,
a frame reduced to flames.
i've been reduced to just a few words
but some things i still defend,
like ghosts in the sand and friends in the wind.
some things just have to end.
a dog salivating in the cold wind.
something dying in the snow.
bones he buried in the yard.
skeletons dance in the dirt.
sometimes life's just so damn hard.
some things always hurt.
i've mapped out what was in his mind,
with compasses and with cranes,
to find out what he left behind:
a man without a name.