Still Life Still Death

still the same still holding séances in batholes still thrumming and still drumming on my tinderbox still letting the copycat days kill themselves over and over the angels are on strike all over the Mandrake Mountain still the dawn is covered with cobwebs of cold marine graveyards still the dusk is X-Rayed through our bones still I exist even though it feels I don’t painted on the mouldy wall just a part of a still life scenery