Wednesday, February 8, 2017


I'm going through life as if I was walking through a cemetery,
If these cold winds will not blow me away,
I'm sure the dead will eventually pull me in,
My skin has been overgrown by rhytides,
Just like these graves have been overgrown by wild grass,
This metamorphosis has ensconced itself where my youth used to be,
I know the vulture lurks his shadow levitates impatiently,
I am at his mercy but I have much to realize still,
I've dragged through a cenotaph once,
Strange it seems for once I was at peace,
I can feel the heart of the mausoleum beating through the soles of my feet,
The voices of those gone before me palpitating through my veins,
I've found life in the presence of the dead,
But I cannot speak their tongue to ask for directions,
Well perhaps these are just phantoms in my head,
The night through the cemetery of life is like days,
I'm left in trepidation of the rising sun,
If only I could find my shadow and unearth myself,

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