The head too feels a cold rush
like those cheeks of yours
will never ever blush
again; that the sun is
a sin and yet it sets again.


Tears come to meet the pain,
but the blizzard hand advances
freezing it all to rain.
Falls onto you like never before,
this planet is are dungeon;
can love give any more ?



Nothing is planned for it is just.
Death must win and life must rust.
Your friends will break it all again:
rotting in eternal flames.
Because it is written
yes, it was said.


God almighty makes us dread
his bony fingers slipping
through the register of death
holding captive every name
and soul at rest.
A simple word in a ****** book,
is forever and ever there.



Miserable duplicates we have been,
going about an earth of spleen,
teeming through porous holes,
scooping through life as would a mole.
Reckless mammalian salesmen/experts,
speaking, sleeping eating, and guessing in vain
to someday meet his horrid train:
If angels were men they'd be robots
blinded by the barrel of a gun;
fulfilling an order for order's sake
flying about as they awake.
All part of the cold infinite sludge;  
everyone an equal precooked piece
of the holy celestial cake.