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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

This is a look at Death through Pagan-Christianity.




Behold her pervasive pirouette 

Striding upon her waxen steed,

Buried beneath these hills

That look like white elephants

Is where my pine box sinks.

Succulent Death:

The gift that no one claims

Yet the home to all that breathe.

She, the harbinger of life’s fragile spark.

We watch her bathe in the radiant shadows

And watch her thrive in the effervescent dark.

The hallowed Angel of Exodus is

Out just claiming young calves

Throughout the paths, Aves, and

Iridescent streets.

I hear her harmonize with

The murderous choirs of the gallows,

Announcing me,

Intreating me,

Singing Ice King by Res.

It is a blessed song to hear

On repeat, softly spilling in

Somber ears:

Overflowing with rage,

Pain, and the lushest fall of tears.


In the rain I feign to wait for

The unknown, engulfed in fear—


I would turn back and wave

To those that remain—

I would even stay...

But my golden trolley is here!

Submitted: August 04, 2020

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