Casual Death

dancing_in_day_of_the_dead_by_demiseman

I saw a young man today walking in the mall
in a sweatshirt with “death” on the front in large letters
and I thought how odd
because I was sure that death rode a pale horse
you never hear of him in a hoodie
the girl walking with him didn’t seem to be afraid of his kiss
so
maybe she was the angel
even if she didn’t have wings
(none that I could see anyway…)
maybe they dress like normal people when they aren’t working.

*artwork by demiseman*

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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