Isaac Hollander McCreery, 7 February 2015
I want friends who will cry with me
And with whom I can cry;
Who will come with me to confront Lord Death
And all his handsom brothers.
I want friends who will push drugs on me
Love, alcohol, ambition, coffee …
Then wrest them away from me
With tenderness and compassion.
Because life and love are simple, really:
They are full, that’s all.
Won’t you come cry with me?
I want to see tears on your face, and feel tears on mine.
Won’t you come tear me from my clothes?
I want to feel your skin, and see my skin reflected on yours.