i won’t sleep when i’m dead

the wind chimes
at night
will always be
one of the
loneliest songs
they have come
to represent
the only sound
to break the silence

i long
to tear them down
to smash them
into pieces
and let the wind
scatter them
to curse
someone else with
their cacophony

but they are all
i have
and if i take them down
i fear the silence
will kill me dead
invisible vapors
suffocating the canary
in a panic
flying around
my hollow chest

they clang
clAng cLang claNG
in a fit in a fury in a
faint jangle
a jingle of sorrow
in chaotic freeform

i want them to play
at my funeral
another likely lonely affair
just the man in
the tractor
shoveling gravedirt
and the wind chimes
playing a dirge
into the quiet
as they dangle from
the gnarled old oak tree

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