Sunday, September 19, 2021

written on a sunny day in graveyard by Rob Plath

every illusion 
you gather 
is like 
flicking the back
of the reaper’s skull 
hardly noticed 
but death is keeping 
a tally 
& is slowly executing 
its revenge 
a few lines carved in yr flesh here 
a few silver hairs there 
a sharper curve in yr spine 
a shooting pain in an organ 
one day death will 
just spin around 
tho & catch you by the wrist
as you flick yr forefinger 
& drag you under 
dark layers 
as all yr little illusions pop 
an empty house 
full of bursting bubbles





rob plath is a writer from new york. he is most known for
his monster collection  A BELLYFUL OF ANARCHY (epic rites press 2009).  his newest collection is MY SOUL IS A BROKEN DOWN VALISE (epic rites press 2019). 


you can see more of his work at robplath.com

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