Red Death

It’s a cold place

That remembers everything

In all of her evil glory

Walls painted red

No masque to hide death

It is etched into her skin

Behind curtains of tissue 

Find your name

A tally mark for each time you died

Each time you let meaning become life

The empty abyss opened up

Swallowed you whole

You silly pretty thing

You misunderstood creature 

You misconception of a man

I will walk those halls with you

Wait on the other side

But only we

Can look

Our own death

Right in its

Bloodshot eyes


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s