Death Nesting - Paperwork Blues

Signed my name a hundred times, death makes you ink your own decline. Birthdates, numbers, boxes checked, a life reduced to forms and debt. The casseroles all turned to rot, neighbors came, then they forgot. The phone still rings, the bills still due, I bury the dead and the living too. It ain’t the grave that breaks my back, it’s the weight of what the living lack. Paperwork and silence, grief and sleep, it’s the promises the dead can’t keep. The smell of flowers turned to dust, a perfume spoiled, a faith gone bust. The air is thick, the hours crawl, I drown in what outlives us all. They tell you time will make it right, but time just steals another night. I count the pills, I count the days, but the math don’t change, the sum don’t fade. It ain’t the grave that breaks my back, it’s the weight of what the living lack. Paperwork and silence, grief and sleep, it’s the promises the dead can’t keep. The stamps, the seals, the waiting line, each clerk rehearses the same old line. I sign away what I can’t keep, grief is buried paper-deep. I’ve signed the lines, I’ve made the calls, I’ve cleaned the rooms, I’ve closed the doors. But grief’s a job that don’t get done, it only clocks out when you’re the one. It ain’t the grave that breaks my back, it’s the weight of what the living lack. Paperwork and silence, grief and sleep, it’s the promises the dead can’t keep. Another form, another line, I’m still here, just marking away my own time.