Association Therapy - a poem by me

Association Therapy

The voice squatting in my head is

speaking in one long run-on sentence,

running and running with no destination 

in sight. I am playing word tennis,

head snapping, the filter between 

cerebral and verbal brought to ashes 

and dust. So I think. Honestly,

death is not that big of a deal for me—

No, really, it's not. I have dreams about

him still. The voice squatter sounds 

like him in pitch but not so in tone.

Maybe I am forgetting. Maybe,

in an attempt to vomit out all of this,

pain, grief, love (somehow they are one)

I lost him and me

and, damn, somehow we are one.

(wrote this in ten minutes and then watched three episodes of Saiki K back to back. thoughts?)