I spend too
many waking hours whispering to the dead
I’m preoccupied with death it
foreshadows my life because I’ve been close close enough to have tasted its venom its icy cold tendrils wrapped around my heart death perches on every shoulder waiting for the moment to snuff the candle out and claim another life an ocean of darkness awaits can’t you hear its roar?
No comments:
Post a Comment