Time of The Deceased

 

The greatest trick

the Devil ever played

was getting us to hate ourselves

and the world we live in.

Cursed misunderstanding.

Perception,

the color of a dawn fog.

Eyes red,

skin flakes,

teeth gritting.

Coming down

from another distraction.

Scars form.

Cataract

the mind’s eye.

There are no more reasons.

Reason is refuge,

and there are no places safe.

Split the lips

and kiss the nihilist.

Be gone,

old friends,

and beggar robbers.

This is the time of the deceased.

There has never been,

or never will be

a reprieve

from now,

until the fire comes.

 

 

HG – 2022

2 thoughts on “Time of The Deceased

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