there are not nearly enough amazon gift-cards

or paper tickets for reduced-price canned beans

to appease us sinners of modern-day suburbia.

clad in their vestments of electric blue

losing sanity under the blinding lights from above

our poor patrons search the aisles for escape.

as we push ourselves across the abyss

we are distracted by the sticky ground that hinders us

from moving our wheels forward.

nearing the end we try to push onward

but we cannot see past the ocean before us

of lost souls surrounding the bargain bins

no thinking.

heavy breathing.

pure, unbridled, chaos.

i just want to find the milk.

The faint buzzing of a lamppost was all that could be heard that night,

in that frosty, desolate graveyard,

where I held my bouquet of flowers,

where I felt my last breath leave my cold, empurpling lips. 

The leaves that once were green with life and pleasure crunched, 

underneath my merciless feet as I walked,

in trepidation to my destination,

that I so dearly wanted to see. 

They could hear the strained lub-dub lub-dub of my heart, 

feel my warmer body pass through their land, 

their kingdom of corpse and mausoleum,

a predestined soul walking to her fate. 

I approached the gate, 

the cracked, moss covered stone, 

lay open just enough for the moonlight to seep in,

casting down its grey-haired wisdom on the one that lay inside. 

They watched in silence, 

grey and translucent,

little lights on the water glowing with desire,

wanting to be me. 

As I crept slowly into the earth I could see,

their sad, pitiable faces, 

only wishing they could do what I have done,

only wishing to be free. 

It was cold. 

It was dark. 

It was silent. 

Yet, my body continued to radiate my mortal heat. 

He lay next to me in comfort,

while I held my cluster of Jacob’s Ladder tight, 

waiting for the release. 

A fresh spirit, 

untouched and unadulterated by the afterlife,

surrounding my grave they wished, 

they only wished to be me. 

To bask in the bliss of moonlight, 

to dance to the beat of one thousand drums,

with their lover for the rest of eternity. 

But they chose, 

unwisely to stay, 

to remain on this lonely rock and live in constant,

unending, 

unrelenting,

regret.