death of a eulogy

today marks the auspicious,
passing of blood and bone;
believe you not in the superstitious,
but black cats die alone.

tongues of flame,
kerosene-drenched hides;
dream molten steel,
and infamous bona fides.

i still cannot believe,
we birth not from hearths,
instead of fahrenheit,
we are from the earth.

revel in difference,
maturity of form;
to death we part sense,
from fortune's belong.

*modified from something i wrote in the summer of '04. it's not something i would be happy with publishing today, but i only have a couple of weeks of strolling down memory lane before reality starts pissing on my parade again!