it is morbid thinking,
i'm aware of it.
stroll down into
a cemetery
and that urge to
pull the daisies
and the roses
and the lilies
and every flower
from the gravestones
takes full control,
like instinct
in a hunting
animal,
the colors on the bleak
sun and rain washed
rocks
sicken me.
what's the reason
for the dead to
petition for
more beauty?
is the glorious
eternal sleep
not enough for them?
greedy *******.