There was a Mortician I used to know
With a chin of whiskers and sallow teeth
He didn’t comb his graying tresses
“Moonlight commence your drip” muttered he
But his hair grew stringier and his ligature looser
A man ever dingy with mourning

Shrouded with death was his visage
A man of fifty, shriveled like a rose
If you spend lifetimes watching milk curdle
And leaves stiffen
Traces of mortality will wrinkle you the same

Acrid appealed to the Undertaker’s senses
Drank black coffee to match his hue
Used to cloud lucid skies, he’d wipe out the blue

None spoke to him but the drawing room mirror
Listen he didn’t to its clamor of tongues  
For a reflection’s to blame for receding flesh

Thirty years conducting funerals
Built a morose man
Quietly he wept
Though a furrowed rose cannot
Thus his quietus was born

Blood brews

Whiskey thrashes rugged orifices

His garbled speech is stifled

By my crimson skin

An ivory doused from his liquid voice

Slash

He’s caressed with daggers

“Self indulgent *****.”

Gall severs in my throat

My iris droops to my waist

Slash

I’m fastened to the ground

The sun renders me frigid with its every ray

His wounds protrude to my chest

Slash

Ethereal whispers in his ears

Darken his soul with a hex

I see a smirk

He leans in  

I weave my head backwards

His arid lips don’t invite me

Not when I long to **** his wretched venom

Slash

I hide

I hear him in drips of the faucet

His whimper

The guttural sound he screams

I even hear the blades pressed to his wrist

Slash

Tears brim my smoldering eyes

I’ve been stitched by needles

I’m a defect

How can I be his pulse?

Clocks rupture
Their willowy hands thaw
Groping for each solemn hour
Stillness encapsulates
Seconds wither
Time is a stagnant corpse
Lying composedly
Amid a necropolis of lives he’s taken
Guilt sinks its teeth in like wet cement
Time once whispered his tears
Through a colorless chime
None heard
None cared
None mourned
All just watched
Watched with cavernous fright
As time clung to their shadows
Scribbling death upon their veins
And staining their youth with fear
“What a harrowing purpose I serve”
Time croaked
And with quivering lips
Time slipped away
Tick
Tic
Ti
T
_

A tantalized spirit
Delves into my spine
It dictates my breathing,
It quickens my saunter
I see filth in my mind,
In my decaying lungs,
On the palms of my hands
Muck where virtue once resided
Virtue untainted by original sin
“O’ God free me”
No reply
The spirit seizes each prayer
If the spirit within should perish
Or plague babes hereafter
It is negligible
For every breast carries putrid milk
Every infant grows
And matures into a gruesome sight
Every wave peaks
And culminates
Every day passes
Every harmonious sound shall cease