Potential Death



Cross the line where the shadow ends,
Follow the way where burial procession went,
Don’t think what’s near,
Feel pain, stroke my ear,

I don’t find visions at night,
Only the view where the hangman dies,
Live on from second to second,
Till death considers me as reckoned,

I baptise myself in beer,
My hear has grown long,
The only way I seek,
Is where you have been gone,

Broken wings crashing on parched earth,
Feel pigeons falling down on the ground,
Eat dust before a following death,
The curse has found,

Me on my beloved grave,
It is the time in the night,
Smoke me out,
Kill me now,

Is it a search for light,
When black serves me on it’s knees?

Life is shaped by the ubiquity of death,
The sepulchre well lies open,
Six feet below morning dew,
I profit the uncertainity.