Featured Artist: ‘der Tod’ by Josie Carey

She has come to relaxation within the nook of my room.
                                    With mud masking her physique like a white movie, it catches my eye.
A ghost in the dead of night. 

                                    At the hours of darkness, I’ll hear her moan out;
A plea to really feel the frenzy
Of fingers upon her keys.

                                    The strings have lengthy rusted,
And the keys would stick if I dreamt of taking part in once more.
                                    A thick moist warmth within the air has decayed her good physique.

She rots within the nook of my room.
                                    A valley stretches by her facet, spreading everyday,
Whereas tiny mud spiders create properties in her gaping wounds. 

Jaundice has coated itself over her as soon as ivory bones,
                                    And a whisper of dying has wrapped himself round her,
Like a sheet that I by no means coated her in. 

                                    Disgrace weighs heavy on my again.
A burlap sack stuffed with all of her broken-down elements,
Scars the pores and skin on my shoulder. 

                                    Now, the halls are silent,
And there’s not one dream of affection
                                    To whisper into the night time.