Confessions of the Dead

Confessions of the Dead


A monastery of sadness
haunted by colorful sorrows
of wintry afternoons, and costly tears
from regrettable flood of emotions
yet mostly never shed.

a kingdom of hatred
where minds are slaves of magical
blades and numb wrists
“CUT-RIP-SLICE” to death
while souls scream out in pain.

a theater of depression
a place for all that is blue
where lingering scent of hell befriends
the paranoiac thoughts in their wildest
yet, loneliest… HOURS.

Dark memories of this so-called life
freshly shelved between crocked
smiles and disgust.
Nothing seems
to matter,
but a kiss of sweet death.

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