buried

I watched the tables outside near the grass from inside the dinner hall.  While walking by a few yards away to use the restroom I looked to see, curious, if I could spot some of his clothes.  I noticed a cream colored sweater in one man's arms and there weren't that many items left on the table.  While it should have been endearing, I felt them taking the last pieces of him.  I felt him dying more.  I felt him leaving then there was none of him.  I started crying while walking in.  I cried while I pissed and begged God to help me, help me, just help me.

I feel so alone and I can't feel faith.  When I cry I feel something, but I don't know if it's faith.  I feel like a worm, I feel like a human that's not long for this earth.  What have I done to my brain?  When didn't I notice?  I had time enough to notice.  Poncho came along, and he was nice enough.  He said at least you wrote something, you served out a day.

"What do you mean?"  I asked.  "What else?"

"Nothing more," he said.