The cemetery’s cold tonight, but I’m waiting,
and skin, though frozen, is deteriorating.
Satan’s wind blows branches away from dead trees
as mausoleum doors open without God’s keys.

Sick despair drizzles where
Bloody Mary lingers.
Sit and stare. Pull my hair,
wound around your fingers.

Death screams much louder than the chanting of a cult,
congregating, suffocating fate with assault.
You’re like a one-armed boxer; spit and knock me out.
Headstones turn to roaches when faith discovers doubt.

Bitter pill. Mercy kill.
Homicide spins faster.
Violent thrill sleeps until
each slave becomes master.

Moon hangs over a diamond sky, shapeless and dim.
Restless stars expire, exploding on a whim.
You’ve always stayed a day behind to avoid sin,
but mutilation reigns and now you’re giving in.

Dawn will rise… Advertise.
Resurrection falters.
Burn the wise. Shelter cries
salt on empty altars.

Far beyond redemption is beautiful decay.
The sacrament of healing pushes us away.
Cathedral steps crack in ruin, welcoming Mass
with morning, but warm blood is sprawled across the grass.