Coffeehouse Funeral- A Freehanded Poem

In brick & glass & iron & air
I can't breath here

Spending more on waste
As I waste time not mine to spend

There is death on the walls
The walls & faces wear stone alike

Behind the stone, behind the skin
Behind the glass, behind these walls

There is life.

The trees breath air I wish to taste
The sky fills with lungs I envy

Raining into spaces longing to be filled
To grow into places unready & unwanted

We hide in places where death reigns
And shut the doors to life

There is life.

It can't be tasted here
It's stained & artificial

I will not waste away here
This is not my tomb.

There is life.

Outside.