The Patterned Tomb

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Lattice of bone shape the walls.

Crushed skulls line these halls.

Grinded to dust as they may be.

Break the wrong ones and the evil will be set free.

The bones never stall, nor end.

This isn’t a simple game of pretend.

Every new death creates several new bricks.

They’re somewhat easy to break, but not like stones and sticks.

I swear that these dim halls can talk.

Their spirits are still here; they love to creep and stalk.

Stalk by day, kill by night.

When they touch you, you’ll die from fright.

Goodnight sweet blessed lost souls.

I have lost my battle to the relentless ghouls.

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Sickly

6d0sJcFSick as sick can be.

Sick as sin can be.

Sick as the mortician.

Sick as the reaper.

Sick as the bleeding gums.

Sick as the eyeless.

Sick as the paper thin skin.

Sick sickly as the doctors.

Sick sickly as the doctors’ masks.

Sick sickly as impending doom.


Sick as sick can be from the ungodly cold and the hellish heat. 

Sick as sin can be as the doctors prance through the grass at night.

Sick sickly like the number of bodies growing in the millions.

Sick sickly like the devilish mortician’s fancies.

Hellish as the dreams of the dead fill my eyes and flood my senses.

Hellish as bones crack, as skin melts like cheese, and as screams go hoarse. 

Hellish as the mixture of smells and sights grows more grotesque by the minute.

I’m stuck in this towering terror of pain. 

I was once a doctor… now just a number with which was written upon my back.

Written on, seared like cattle, then gutted like swine. 

I’m mixed in with the plague, like one big steaming stew. 

I have a mask that was made for me.

It was made from me.

The end is near.

Run.

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Dead Silence

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I sing and sing and sing the dreaded song.

Infinitely singing sweetly the song of silence.

Rapidly spreading the sound of sweet misery and dread.

‘Tis music to the ears for some.

‘Tis sweet nothingness for mine.

I feel the sweet dread pulsing through my veins as each note leaves my lips.

Endless euphoric ecstasy ignited by the dread fills my brain with empty love. 

Death and dread are best friends.

I am the source of music to which they dance to with delight. 

I quiver at the mere thought of it.

I am the creator of silence, the creator of nothing; a delusion that doesn’t even exist.

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NoOne NoOne

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Heart as black as the midnight sky.

I have forgotten who I am in the midst of death.

I’ve lost my soul to the false angels and hid within the lair of the demons.

I don’t want to remember what I was meant to embrace.

I let my thoughts sink into the blackness of night.

It’s just me here now, everyone else has died.

No one is here. No one will ever be here.

It’s just me here, no one else.

Forever and always.

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Game Over

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I’M DEAD! I’M DEAD! I was in over my head!

I’ve been stuck in space, stuck in a game, stuck in my mind.

I had to fight for a lonely piece of bread.

I had to find against my own kind.

I lost my friends, my friends to this stupid, stupid game.

It was going to be fun, they said.

I don’t even remember why we did it; it was just oh so lame.

Instead of living, we died instead.

Space is definitely not an open place.

I know this for sure.

We told each other it wasn’t competitive and to go at our own pace.

But when someone decided to involve food in the game, it became too painful to endure.

We’re dead, we’re dead. We were over our own heads. 

We were separated somehow, I don’t know when. Why can’t we be all together when we’re dead?

Now we roam space looking for company and bread.

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tH3bUnF@c3

05b08c082144865401a8d5e2797dcc1bBeauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Undead are ahead of us.

No one knows why they exist.

No one has the answer to pure insanity.

You shouldn’t be asking questions that you don’t what the answer to.

Make wise choices, and you’ll live.

Any mistake you make is fatal.

Skin is just an eternal flaw in all of us.

Kindness can be mistaken for malintent.

See you later my dear, hop along now….

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