Death's Soiled Pillows

 the end comes without remorse. we stumble into the void as lost as we were when we first emerged from it. the heavy sacks we call life mysteriously emptied somehow. the crutches we walked on no longer needed. 

life burns as a small flame. too easily blown out. 

this world is sharp and hard. all corners and heavy weights. what comes after we can only wonder. is it softer. is it peace. 

we live our small lives. our empty pens scratching at the blank pages. desperate to say something to a world that seldom listens. 

we chase the wind. in all our arrogant glory. a cacophony of monsters and sheep souring in our heads. while we wait for the ultimate truth. that final breath our last great epiphany. 

the absence of god. the freedom of release. 

flesh hardens. thoughts evaporate. we say goodbye in a fury of grief.

we run our fingers over the edge of time's blade.

ready to bleed.