Death’s a mysterious lover.
When you pine for it, nothing,
when the least expected,
it comes knocking.
You can party with it.
Crimson robes & black crown.
Many teeth you can’t see.
Better savor that last kiss.
All systems going defunct,
back to the factory where they’ve come.
Various methods of degradation.
At least the builder knows recycling.
You’re drowsy, time for a shut-eye.
Spotlight dims, bar opens all night.
Traveling between some blurry lines,
looking for something that’s inside.
Come back, show me the design.
Mark it, so I can rest.
Comfort me, with your intent.
Then again, it’d just make me sad.
hotsurf_ 