They are still here
recorded in peeling paint
cracked plaster and bare floors
as though only just left, momentarily
a life suspended

nature has forgotten the boundaries
where once walls protected
creepers, moss and mould
add their colour to the decor
lit by the same sun, life here

continues behind a veil
pictures still adorn the walls
faces of our fallen heroes
blindly stare as a photographer
records the passing of an era.

Bravery is swallowing iron, belly pooling with lava, as I face towards the horizon. Death croons and taunts, offering their hand, and I give no response.

"There is time for that, but not now. Not yet."

I watch the horizon grow, before I feel Death's icy hands on my neck.

You loved her less, for whatever reason—
Your brilliant redemption, your glowing new start—
And it made you realise
You were just the same.
That decay you thought she’d burned away
Had just been waiting in the wings
And in the moment you loved her less,
Her illusive light fading,
Your soul began to rot again.

I have been walking past a dead rotting body for weeks now.

A badgers body perfect looking at first and slowly watching the worms and maggots eat away at the flesh. slowly decaying and rotting and becoming nothing. this is life. this is real. and this is the truth. this is everyone's eventuality. that is our future.

The smell of death was unforgettable, and it makes me wonder why we try so hard when in the end we are just a body that will fade to nothing...

My body is the urn that holds my ashes.
No matter how I change its shape and design,
its purpose stays the same.

The body dies :
A crumpling
not an implosion
as I turn inward
on my own corpse
In a desperate gasp
for sustenance and revival
The result ? :
A flourish!...
but, then, a puff
deflation
The Surround caves me
collects arrears upon my vehicle
I am to make no feast
the body is the process