the grave keeps calling

a titillating tale of a corpse’s smell
death is anything but desired
but when she passes through my being I feel moved
I cannot speak for I am stricken with grief
I should’ve died plenty of times
and why god has robbed me of that joy
I can never forgive her for that
death is anything but desired
but as of late it is the fate that I have been lusting
I cannot stand four or more decades of life
humans are boring
steady on a uniform of settling down with a family and growing old happily
to me it is sick to have to be stapled to this all too common path
whenever death has its grasp on my neck it slides down onto the floor and ascends to zenith
every morning is just a pattern replenished
and no
no single being can ever understand the echo chambers of my mind
the screams
leave me petrified with a blank stare
death and I are such a pair but I cannot ever touch and she can never lay her bones on my heart
it is the only thing that I have ever lusted for
death would be the ultimate orgasm as I creep on creepin’ on as a phantasm


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