Viking Funerals and Christmas Lights

And in the nightmare
my younger brother drank poison and whiskey
because he craved
to die on his own terms
instead of letting the cancer
turn him into an old man
at 25,
so he threw the elixir back
very fast with his eyes closed
and in true                          
viking funeral fashion
floated dead down the river,
his body aflame
turning to embers and ash.

I found it frustrating
that when I walked 
I could always see
the blood drenched boys
running with their guns,
shooting each other
to fund some
fat bat’s purse
while their wives
cry in broken down
lighting candles to save
their soldiers
from themselves,
after the war
when the bruises started,
and he wept
as she held him
when he talked
of the stars falling
out of the sky
and burning his forehead
leaving a scar.

Isnt it funny
how those freezing nights
seem to crave
all the sad songs
until youre heaving tears
from what feels like the stomach,
til nausea sets in
and you cant seem
to get a full and deep breath?
But then I would go
for drives
to feel the cold air
on my face,
turn the music up
until I could feel
nothing else
but the melody,
drive through subdivisions
to see the twinkle lights
wrapped around houses
and the warm Christmas tree shadows
in kitchen windows

which always made me smile.

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