Masturbating Life With Death Poem by D.A. Woods

I appease my very existence with concoctions of thrills, blindness and arrogance. Only then I border the dark hours with my fading light. It's not the first time the light won't let me go.

How aroused death gets as he thinks another is going to knock upon his prized door that holds so much treasured captures within. I see him at his window beckoning me, enticing me and trying to captivate me with his same old songs. I approach. I'm nearly there. My heart is racing, excitement of not knowing throbs my very soul. With all that allures, I notice he has a hard on for me. I turn around to see a dimmed yellowish light with nothing to offer.

I have came.

I have arrived.

The 27 club embraces me.