DEATH IS A FRIEND

DEATH IS A FRIEND
Ricardo Antonio Garcia

The wicked wind of death
scours for its victims without mercy
for even the beautiful die
wilting before us like a black rose.
Eyes witness to the facade
nebula eyes wither into oblivion
as the midst of God cries.
How the miraculous paintings jell
and melt before time
leaving us with a vague memory.

The wind of death is silent
as hamsters munch in their cages
swelling their pouches
thinking the Egyptian dynasty
will inter them.
Eyes for our fornication
expel their energies into a different midst
unbranded by our solace
and coined after our temperamental lies
these vibrations invite death.

At what high frequencies can we hear?
I am deafened by strangers.

If death is a friend …