Awake

You wake to car sounds, radios, cold sunshine
and spiders dangling silver
thread after thread
in an opiate dance of threat.

You hear the sound of toasted leaves
crushing under heavy feet
and people creaking
from their sins.

You see their ghosts by the fire sorting out
bones to form skeletons
of heroes and saints
that never exist.

As you lie at your wake, you know the past
ate itself and soon would be vomited out
with the future now folding up
in your mouth.