Tag Archives: death
It was about time, epitaph planned in advance– Will you dance with me? Advertisements
She, unmoving, has remained the same for millennia, mercy on a tether. As for the tombs, the plots, the names engraved on headstones, those are always different, change, the truest source of sorrow replenished.
I tell myself stories in the dark, Anya. Whether or not they help is either of primary consequence or none at all. Sometimes you have to walk through the boneyard in order to reach the garden. This what I tell … Continue reading
On the day the Trickster died in vain Winter set in to consecrate its crucifix and initiate the changing of seasons.
Will you marry me, and promise to be mine forever and ever? Yes, she agreed, one foot in the grave, the other scraping forward.
In a vain attempt, she corseted herself in green wind and cellophane, votive to a thin whip of air. As she lay there, colors emptying to gray, before the round voices and fast hands came, she fell in and saw … Continue reading
The out of womb blues, torch song on code red alert– Slow burning for home.
Scorpion, who fears thy immortal symmetry imprinted upon a lidless void? Who dares tread upon your inky black trail of shelled pearls and amative resin? You, Sex, You, Death, You, primordial sleep and whipped wake of Pan’s ancient cloven song– … Continue reading
Classic ghost story, you have haunted your own life– No man’s epitaph.
Flowers pale into this storm but do not fade, to cede, in tune, as grievous winds sculpt a fierce bloom, begging a Garden’s fate.