Make the preparations:
The mask is being fitted —
I am waiting to be embalmed.
My time in the sun is ending —
And I am retiring,
Because I’ve had enough —
I am sick of the world
And all that lives in it —
The flowers that grow,
And grow old.
My bloom is fading
And I cannot forget —
Well, let’s stop wasting;
Let’s start preparing for the last dance, my darling —
Let’s make it a romance,
A thing to remember.
I shall sail the city streets once more —
I shall die in laughter and merriment —
Better that than a slow fading —
A cold wasting in an ill house,
Forgotten and all alone.
My time has nearly come;
I don’t ask for much —
Just a little wine,
A little dance
And some love —
Then I will be happy;
Then I will be ready,
For my star to rise a final time.
From my forthcoming poetry collection, Autodestructsuperstar.
