I like graveyards. They're peaceful and quiet.
Here no one fights or argues, curses or kills.
Here all have reaped the wages of sin: death.
Who am I?
I don't know.
I'd give worlds to know
If that were possible.
I didn't do it. I wasn't there!
Why does everyone gasp and stare?
What's that you say? I can't remember.
You can tell
I'm a real man.
Look at my hands.
They're calloused and tough
As falling snow makes
No sound on the frozen ground,
I meditate in silence.
Every day I wake up
And hear this strange sucking noise, like
A clogged vacuum cleaner.
In my house, when I step outdoors,
You can't love what
You won't die for,
You don't love if you
The arms that embraced me,
That held our children,
That washed and tenderly folded
Our lives together like precious garments,
Tonight the moon has
a death's shroud around it.
A cold wind is out of the northwest.
The candles gutter