“Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince:  And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!” -Horatio-

with morning tied to her hem a silent dirge twinkles and spits out melancholy
have you held new born death in your hand
written down the time it came
at every moment locked eye with its void
shook your head at the quest for why
with the years death has softened with me
its sting dulls and calms down
as does a drowsy baby’s cry
just enough to hear the seeping of tears
the stones lucid now sit deep in the stomach
as to not allow grief to drag me away
the intention was to keep demise at bay
these hands have yet to hold cold death
the eyes have had their fill however
have you ever had to behold the violence
the hatred of ignorant minds
or race through mine fields of denial
excommunication and exile
a consequence for lefting their ‘rights’
this pain this isolation is the stain
an old wise pirate said only death is certain
with these bones i wander chaos underbelly
in the land where no one survives
the flesh and chosen unintelligible senses
continue to twitch and beg for forgiveness
the unwanted passport to do it all again