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In the pit of my stomach

There is a pit of death in my stomach. Of moths and butterflies dancing in sulfuric fires, Leaping, advancing to my heart and throat, And I bloat from this toxic gas. Upon this volcano is a halo of ash. Alas, I can smell it. I am vile, evil, rotten, For life has not forgotten, The deadly sins I have begotten. My red blood alight in blue flames, My pulse quickens as I sicken and convulse, And I spit and vomit from this pit, the dead, And most tragic of all, my Soul. So I want to gut my Body of me, To save my Spirit and set it free.
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Anonymous

"I no longer know if I wish to drown myself in love, vodka or the sea."
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At a cemetery

"Hush," the lush green trees said to the rushing breeze... "In these graves gracefully lay the gratefully dead..."...
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Dark cloud

Mother, Her piercing blue eyes set in fierce white skies, the sun in them, looks down at  her . She cries at her despair, cold fresh rain against her warm flesh. she looks up to the sky, starts to cry too. Have Her tears come to wash away her fears? As  she breathes in the rain to drown this pain inside of her . Please, let them.
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שָׁלוֹם
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Alms for the birds

When I die, bury me in the valley, Yes, chant a mantra for my body as it lays, And then may they come from the sky, Their black feathers like smoke over the clouds, Vultures, ravens and crows for my cold, cold flesh, Such poetry, this gory glory... And weep at the beauty of it all I shall, I swear! Because now, in spirit I can fly, To my grave in the sky, Such poetry, this holy glory, Bless my soul, Birth as a bird, Oh the serendipity of this serenity, So divine it would be, as it should, My afterlife.
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Adaptation.

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