Death Is Fashionable Nowadays
"Help," he cried underneath the ground
but we buried him too fast
and the time is past, the sky is ebony,
I can't even touch it with one finger,
my wrist dripping diamonds and pearls
the wrist you grabbed beneath the moon,
and we sought to uncover the ways of the ones
who bring forth soliloquys on a whim.
Death means nothing to the forsaken flowers
left behind for the puppy to chew.
"i'm sorry we buried you too fast,"
I could hardly speak as I choked on chocolate milk;
my watch has stopped
from diving into the ocean
and talking to the sharks
who laughed at my imagination
and then gave me nightmares.
We'll dig you up from your resting place
and let you sign a contract for life,
listening to the blood sing in your veins
and watching as the purple bleeds scarlet
on all of our capes.
I haven't written to you lately,
I know I haven't sung a tune
but the skies are too dark
for the sun to shine in this lonely room
and I gave the pen to a homeless man
who needs it more than I do
though he just got kicked out of the post office
right before noon;
is it closing time already?
We'll give you new skin
and erase the mummy's bandages,
we have a party tonight and you can't look too ancient,
but death is fashionable nowadays
so you should be a hit.
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