Kid died

D. David Croot has been writing on and off (pretty much continually) for nineteen hundred years. He is no preternatural creature, no real special abilities or heightened desires to speak of, but he’s put in his four-trillion hours and it’s all for you my sweaty precious and sublimely beautiful creatures.

— — — — — — -

Samuel Yurns died at the age of sixteen

I did not attend the funeral

It was a school affair

Attended by and gossiped about

I could not attend where sincere grief

was not manifested

I could not do it genuinely

in my own personal way

without faking it

And I duly saw this as hell’s fury for the soul

A crime to the family who have lost their own

Murder of the solidified moment

-

I know these words should have

been about you

But like your life it didn’t turn out as hoped

I wish then

as I do now

you get more than you got in this one.

It all started here: when I think of school part one