Hospice

The Antlers Hospice Album

10.Epilogue

In a nightmare, I am falling from the ceiling into bed beside
you.
You're asleep, I'm screaming, shoving you to try to wake you up.
And like before, you've got no interest in the life you live
when you're awake.
Your dreams still follow storylines, like fictions you would
make.

So I lie down against your back, until we're both back in the
hospital.
But now it's not a cancer ward, we're sleeping in the morgue.
Men and women in blue and white, they are singing all around
you,
with heavy shovels holding earth.
You're being buried to you neck.
In that hospital bed, being buried quite alive now.
I'm trying to dig you out but all you want is to be buried there
together.

You're screaming,
and cursing,
and angry,
and hurting me,
and then smiling,
and crying,
apologizing.

I've woken up, I'm in our bed, but there's no breathing body
there beside me.
Someone must have taken you while I was stuck asleep.
But I know better as my eyes adjust.
You've been gone for quite awhile now, and I don't work there in
the hospital
(they had to let me go.)

When I try to move my arms sometimes, they weigh too much to
lift.
I think you buried me awake (my one and only parting gift.)
But you return to me at night,
just when I think I may have fallen asleep.
Your face is up against mine,
and I'm too terrified to speak.

You're screaming,
and cursing,
and angry,
and hurting me,
and then smiling,
and crying,
apologizing.