Is that Rigor Mortis or are You Just Happy to See Me?

May 5, 2012
By Anonymous

Good morning, dearest brother

would you care for breakfast tea?

A slice of toast and Marmite?

Or, just stay in bed with me.

Your hair and nails are growing,

becoming deeper red

as your skin grows ever paler

like the bones inside your head.

Speak to me, dearest brother.

Can’t you see that I need help?

If you hold your tongue forever

you’ll condemn right to Hell.

Your vocal cords stopped moving.

Your lips have been sewn shut.

But when it’s dark I can pretend

you whisper words of love.

Dance with me, dearest brother.

Look up into my eyes.

They say that I have killed you,

but they speak only lies.

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