He plays the Marche Funèbre,
   But dresses it in drag:
A syncopated danse macabre,
   He plays it as a rag.


She was hurt from her past,
      Broken from down below
Such her strength was lost,
      Pulling those strings in her chest,
She gave away all her joy,
      Tears escaped her eyes,
Her smiles dusted away,
      Her hair rose sharply,
She sighs and a shadow took over,
      From a high hill she jumped,
The valley of death escorted her,
      From such horror she witnessed
A humming voice from death himself,
     Such her beauty decolorised,
Her breath faded and,
     A humming voice ulcerated.

Author: Sebake Gavin

Inanna 21h

Cesspit of hell, stone-brick well, semi-filled with blood,
Churning, encircling, flesh foiled bones,
Siberian toes, scarlet clotted mud, red flood.

Sewage of doom, butchery tomb, human maroon,
Fermenting remains, skin and nails, transient veins,
Teeth and bones, bow below the omniscient moon.

Black webbed hair, malodorous air, limbs clasped in prayer,
Disheveled grim, death takes a swim,
Eyeballs glare, expired, cold, emeralds rare.

I hate that women should age,
While men should mature,
As if the passage of time
Didn't mean that we're all
Just a tad-bit closer to death.

M•(e). Díaz

Secret lovers they are, Time and Death...
R 8h

night is when everyone will love you the most
it is when you take a bath and get clothed
they will walk you down your bed
they'll sing you to sleep
cover you with some sheet
will give you hugs like it's the last
and kisses so strong, quite so vast
you might have heard the most precious words
but no, you couldn't, you are asleep on birds
they throw soft things that you barely feel
and yes, indeed their cry is real

they are thankful that they have you
and they're thankful that they had you

Thinking about death?

I was announced
By flying crows
And there was blood
In the new white snow
Heavy hands
Deliberate and slow
Around my neck
In the new white snow
I was left alive
But never whole
Twisting through the wind
In the devil’s bowl

Guden 11h

There is a house,
Inside there is a man,
This man is dead,
He is death.
He awaits for his call
To come out
And visit us all,
Sometimes he does not wait
When we make the tragedy of living short
And we cheat Mr dead
By doing his job for him.
We visit his house,
Tired of love,
Sick of it all.
He doesn't mind,
It's good to receive visitors from time to time

Holed up in a closet with half a pint or so
Too slowly disheartening for the time it takes
And far too enigmatic for the plans I've yet to make
Yet I move with every atom drawn emancipated

Yet the context of neurons
And bitter sweet memory all a fabrication
Another thin layer of nostalgia to force feed the sleeping beast
And even as I disregard, it comes up through the latency so brazen
Another helpless mess of chemicals to feast upon


A damn shame as well
Charismatic yet moments away from being half adjusted
Using every empty vow of justice to reciprocate
He must've mustered every ounce of faith based forgery
And the internal jury applauds

All is for naught, but drowning in waste deep
Self pity is for suckers
I can drown in less than half an inch

Selfishness is only realized once
Pride stops you from making friends
Maybe the fear hits nearer to home
Reopen its wounds like the case that lay dormant but provable
Felonious though it may be once you disregard empathy
You know he did

And yet it bleeds

Still it moves

Cognition taken for granted, but by who?
Sure, the long since departed had so much to lose
But If with every passing breath they would've sucked down oxygen
With the same callousness he possessed
When cutting off their heads

Doesn't the burden fall on you as well...
Sending a man to hell is no easy task

Bask in the grace you made for yourself
Bending the page with ink that you've layerd
With blood and homage to past ruling lieges
That murdered their wives for no god damn reason

Tragedy only strikes in pairs
Taking the same heads off twice
One visible, the other not so much


Spring has gone to Summer
and Summer falls with me
into the leaves that die
separated from their tree.
the sap has gotten thick
and the flowers nodding off
the birds have disappeared
and grass has gotten rough.
the thing that never changes
the sky that stays so blue
covers me with sunshine babe
like happy thoughts of you.
I see it from a bed of leaves
through branches sleeping now
my dreams away like birds
my body on the ground.
the thing that ever changes
the clouds that cover blue
a feeling bittersweet my love
like all my thoughts of you.

Nothing special. Just an image of a girl day dreaming up at the sky.
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