Imprimir Visions of Death by Tristan Robert Lange

Mesmerizing black,
Shining brightly,
Hanging on tightly,
To the edge of life and death.
“Hang on,” I hear you cry.
But I ask why,
What if I want to die,
Can you save me from myself?
Come save me foolish redeemer,
Before I eat dinner
And die from food poisoning,
An ascent to the stars up above.
Slaves and whores, that’s all you are.
Death deceives you,
It comes in looking like a lamb
And steals you away.
It consumes the blood of the living;
It feeds off of us like parasites.
It takes us to unknown origins,
That are located in the middle of
Endless tunnels in the realm of surrealism.
And all of this makes me wonder,
Whether I stand with full vision,
Or whether I’m standing blind.
But I’m not blind,
I’m only left behind,
Behind a cross made with dogwood,
Watching a crucifixion —
Another death.