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.