I’m walking into landmines
Tiptoeing over his lines
Misreading every sign
Watching existence decline
© Delia Ross. 2021 / @poeeternal
No matter what step I take, it’s always the wrong one.
I never had a proper upbringing, I guess I won’t have a fucking honorable death either will I?
I’d be lucky to have 7 people attend my funeral (like dear Edgar A. Poe) and I guarantee 5 of em’ will be my enemies there to celebrate my death and piss on me.
It’s a good thing I’m going to fucking drown myself in the sea.
Problem solved. And 1 mysterious death in bound.
This time, I AM GHOSTING YOU.
I’m going through some heavy shit right now (alone and during a pandemic) so if you’re out there punishing me… 👎👎
It’s not even called a cemetery, it’s called a mount (a hill). I walked up that mount yesterday looking at tombs that have been destroyed with time and hurricanes, some abandoned and others well kept.
I don’t know why I assumed that everyone got a tomb when they died, but they don’t. Ash become many in the wind.
I still have a lot to learn about death. Realizing my dad wasn’t going to get a tomb after how he died was a big fucking light bulb.
My dad had been dead for days before he was found and you don’t know what that sort of information does to a human being.
And then reading how Edgar Allan Poe’s families just tossed him in an unmarked grave in a fucking box ho ho ho.
So life sucks. Dying sucks. And death sucks too.
When I was a kid me and my grandmother would travel around and visit different cemeteries and look at the tombs, seeing entire famalies buried on the same day, and imaging how they must have died. Sometimes she would catch me in the hole of where someone had been buried but was moved due to racism and segregation which still occurs in Mississippi. She thought it weird but I liked the smell. I still like to wander cemeteries though, reading the tombs and visiting the dead.
But it seems being buried is for the rich. And eventually Earth isn’t even going to exist. It does my mind in.
You’re a slave, Neo.
I don’t have anybody to love me while I’m alive so why can I assume that there will be anybody to love me when I’m dead…
I don’t know if I can endure another X amount of years of existence being invisible or soley alive to pay bills and be nothing more than a toy or sex object.
Depression awareness. I’m not okay.