Death’s eye does not look down on us tonight
For it has lost its visionary gleam
And so, not from death’s eye comes any fright
But only from our own internal scream
The light of death, a dark red laser beam
That penetrates our skin, reaches our heart
And, as we lie in bed, dissolved in dream
Some part of us tells us it’s time to part
Our own executioner, our own dart
Rises from within, reaches a great height
Then turns, descending, too fast to be seen
Not seen, just felt, victim of prisoner’s art
A cold black feeling spreading from one bite
Your hear your organs play your funeral theme
Mon 29 June 2009
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