How To Live Dead

Some say that to break an undeniably nervous habit of any sort is 21 days 

To rid an addiction, to break the system of consecutive repetition

As to why is it that a year has passed, 365 days of torment, and yet my soul still yearns for you

The touch upon my skin, the adrenaline you give within and somehow left my weakened heart in two

By God do I wish the pain would resist my limbic system and disperse

As you did amongst the crowd of the weary and dead proclaimed the nurse 

A soft slow passing of which I heard 

Yet no such goodbyes would escape the mouth of words that I would've slurred 

I wish that I could buy more time 

To right my wrongs, to make the treacherous climb

Out of the darkness that has encompassed me

While you sit in the heavenly clouds and just be

Oh how does this remembrance cause such causalgia?

Why must I experience a bittersweet nirvana?

Times that pertain laughter corresponding to a foreshadowing disaster

And breaking down when in the presence of the pastor

How to live dead begins when you take your first breath

As dying is inevitable, and should be something we should not stress

Succumbed to the conscience of utmost regret

As we wish to buy more time, as we wish to converse with our loved ones, the dead