Voices

(For Diederik)

He woke up three quarters of the way to his funeral 

with the added numbness of seeing his own mourners.

Up there with the devil and his courtesans sharp tongues are obeyed.

Closed eyes let them all in, friends they say, with machetes and jerrycans.

A chemical imbalance balanced on a sill.

They didn't push; 

he jumped willingly (with them).

Unfortunately they couldn't even give him 

the momentary wings of gravity,

nor sanity - their death wish 

not his.