mr. death, let's have a conversation
about how everyone's so incomplacent
to the point of hatin the fact, that your a popular guy
and that everyone has to meet you, but really, why?
i try to grasp my perspective as i contrast day and night
you and me, we've talked a lot, but i've never met life
yet life, i live with that fucker, he's like a brother
passed on as a gift from the great to grandmothers
it's wonder that keeps my mind wandering
to personificate the cycles of future w/ past tense apologies
remember that time we sat down to pass the time
and i payed a little mind
to how life's a grown man and your a midget; analogy for no afterlife?
now i'm not insulting your intelligence
i regard it as brilliance with infinite relevance
but check it real quick, because today i met someone else
probably one in your league; or at least on the same shelf
but hell, heavens, jesus christ, the devil, and man
regarded himself as a skitzophrenic fuck named sand.


by alex

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