Fear Not Thy Death

Fear thee not, for thy sweet stench of dormant death is in the aboulic air Thus in thy fraught, and benighted breath to ask for thy life to shamely spare Or be quick thy death, defecating and releasing thy sacred salubrious soul For thy wick in candle, awaiting a chastising seditious smoke streaked stroll For is not a man, peacefully protected by graceful gods and ascending angels Or be thy heavens plan rigorously rejected by those who sever thy carpal cables Alas in thy fetal fright, I bid thee a fond adieu with a savourless somber sorrow For thus our festive flight with holy honeydew and minstrels musical morrow. 02.20.2017 Fear Sponsored by/The Seeker