PRAY FOR US

 

Like a cold witches’ brew.
An Oasis for all.
Now a hell for the few,
Who remain to tell all.
Warm winds turn cold
As all become prey.
The young and old. 
For them we must pray.
Hell hath no fury
Like a demon scorned.
There is no jury
For a small town mourned.
Who’ll save Oasis
From ‘The Dead’ demons?
Who will now face us,
More dead or demons?
Pray for us.
We are alone 
Come save us.
We must atone.
THE DEAD GAME
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FOOTSTEPS AT THE DOOR

“Institute Benjamenta” (1995) dir. Timothy Quay, Stephen Quay

 

Has he come for me?

I hear his footsteps.

Walking up the steps.

The leaves stop rustling.

The wind stops blowing.

The silence is overpowering.

Is he standing outside the door,

Waiting for me to open it?

I won’t.

I won’t let him in.

He wants me.

I won’t become one of The Dead.

THE DEAD GAME

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A GHOST OF ME

 

A GHOST OF ME

I sit on the bench,
watching the sun take flight,
and the moon move to position.
The stars begin to shine 
in the darkening sky.
All is well with the world.
The night will soon be here.

But all is not well with me.
I feel light.
I feel empty.
I feel transparent.
A ghost of my former self.
What has happened to me?
How will I go on?

One day life changed for me.
And all I had taken for granted
was gone in a second. 
How will I go on living?
There is no one here on the bench,
but a ghost of me.