Do you hear that sound?
It is the sound of your life slipping through my hands
My cold dark damp hands
The hands that love you to death
The one’s that scream for the gnashing of your flesh
The eye bleeds the ink of your life on your flesh parchment
A sinewy ligament the quill for your torture
Write if you dare untold truths within your pain
Tell lies to the widows the insane
Make a pact with the level of your madness
So you may follow through with this gored affair
Maggots’ resolution to be more efficient the next arrivals
Eat before it spoils if you dare
Rot the sweet root taste of decay drips from your lips
Your flavor of the day
Cacophony
Food for the livid macabre living in deaths row garden
Blessed are the dead because they have rotted away
Waiting waiting on the sunflowers of disease
Embalmed is the fertilizer in longevities garden
Life lives but death is ever ardent
Bitterroot blood vein that protrudes from your temples
Make of the Beast so tragically simple
Sentinels of grave custodies darkened ways of the blood buoyant
Watch
Keeping the bones cold chilled for the pyre
©2009 H. A. Irwin, Jr.