Both Sides

When all that's longed
for by a dying soul
is not within
itself,
 
when the decaying walls
are ready to crumble,
roots that run
haywire
 
detach themselves from
frames of red flesh,
breath begins to
stop being
life,
 
when neurons fail to send
messages in a bottle,
when limbs cease
to stumble on
them,
 
eyes see the blinding light
that sucks your senses
into a never-ending
tunnel, you know
it's life
 
on both sides.