I’m comfortable here inside this crypt
A mound by that door is where I usually sit
I stare at the ceiling with unblinking eyes
The temperature in here is gloomily nice
Once in a while a maggot passes by
I squirm quietly and just say Hi
‘Tis few months since the wooden walls closed
Layers of sand upon me while I dozed
In here throngs a glimmer of love
Some broken desires and an unkept vow
Hope coughs drily and the wind is almost nil
Yeah it can get unpleasant; that makes her ill
Some dirges seep in with the dawn and the dew
One more box of nails; who knows who.
Someone drops by with a lonely blue flower
I see a little child, a man and his lover
I laugh quietly. Been there done that.
He too agrees, my friend, Mr. Rat
Wind-borne comforts stain my epitaph
I bide my timelessness and take a little nap
A syllable from your love etched in poetry
Upon this stone lives to haunt my memory
Your pain, ocean-hued, blazes in vain
My love, do not make me want to live again.