Prose V

Control comes from sources known, thus darkness has Her realm but Death rocks. Death rules in the end so don’t ask for money. That all should die is good lest the world overcrowd. You know hysteria will be an embarrassment if you end up dying in winter alone. You must have your thoughts. When I die, I will have mine for instant recall or available from the library to be read if I am unable to interact with the outside world. Everywhere, so few can describe experienced love of writing as if it were the way I pay for utilities. Get up and do something and be grin prone. Love is no disco kind of dude. He grows taut too late and She withers so fast. Did you know crows have feet like poems? Cut loose between dying and dead; Death as a woman will rock your world soon or late. She will have liked to dance with you to the jingle of hellsh bells. I have earned the fires of ink, I truly believe this to be true. Like you, I dream of Heaven and a publisher. I dream a hemisphere of air and light. I may rebel and creatively consider Death the ultimate rebel lass of all creation. After all, she’s a handsome devil. Her feet are sure, her emblem is embossed on her holster, the epitome of cool. Her spurs whirrrrr in the breeze of her passing. Willows wilt as she passes. This is the writer’s definition of power.

© allets 2023
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