Dead Asleep

Slip sighs into the coffin
to let his hair wave.
Drizzle him with tears
for his first shower in days.
See the relaxed brow
as it distorts his face;
He seems calm
for at a slow pace.
His double sided candles
are loosed from his knuckles;
crispy black tapers
between fingers unbuckled.
He left his life in his schedule;
an autobiography
mixed with his novella
of appointment cacophonies.
His last words
echo in your head;
"I'll be fine," he said,
I'll sleep when I'm dead."