Do you weep,
For those you ****?
Do you feel cold,
Without your second soul?
Skeleton,
In the house of the living.
It is like being dead,
But never being able to die.
Dissection,
On the surgeons table.
When you go,
will the dead pass me by?

You opened up.
The bee and the blooming flower bud.
Carnivore,
You slammed your petals shut.
Its mouth does not speak,
Therefore, its heart shall cease to beat?
Why does it matter to you?
It belongs to me.
I stole its air,
That makes it free.

Hung it from an umbilical cord,
Tied around a broken crescent moon.
Who knew that its home,
Would be the place to call its tomb.

Sang the carols of the needle man,
Now you hold a dead heart in your hand.
The air around screams ****** ******,
Seeing you through a blood-stained mirror.

A stranger wearing your skin.
Dead inside the home it made within.
A stranger wearing your skin.
Buried inside your human coffin.

I’ve been trying my best to be a good host,
Though I have no idea as to what suits a ghost,
I’ve offered them food, and watched it all rot,
I’ve offered my wardrobe, no clothes they sought,
I lit a fire for sitting, but they’d no need for heat,
I freed up the best armchair, for none to take seat,
I’d availed the dead, and was left feeling loose,
And so held my head up with the help of this noose,
It’s no wonder their company’s naught for to boast,
If you ask me, I’ll tell you to give up the ghost.

may your graves stay open
without you arising
proud and solemn 
like lost children
burning cigarettes
for the fallen

eternal orchestras
will play you melodies
as heavy as boulders
and lost children
will carry the world
upon their shoulders

now your graves will enchant
stray cats and wild vultures
guiding their way
if lost children
call out to you
don't lead them astray

let sleeping bones lie still
underneath weeds and grass
but never closed
so lost children
see an example
that's overexposed

i'm the biggest raven
beaking at the cracks of
your iron grave
so come on, haunt
so come on, take
whatever you crave