Friday, November 18, 2005

1,001 Shrimp Recipes

Yes, I know we haven't spoken in a week. No, nothing's bothering me. No, it wasn't something you said. No, I'm not PMSing. No, I don't hate you. Yes, I'm still reading your blogs, and no, I haven't quite rid myself of my obsession with death.




How can I fear you, Death, if
you're just a thing that hungers?

Some threat indeed, you
wretched force of poverty!

How can I fault you for being desirous
when I want things too?

Poor Death;I can only pity a creature
who scavenges for discarded scraps of light,

and dread becomes compassion for one
who must anguish for every single breath.

Surely, I could--for a moment-- choke
in the airless void so that you could fill your lungs.

I can never know your awful craving--
your hands of ash cupped to receive.

But for you, sweet Death, I'd pluck my heart
still beating in its crimson bloom
in exchange for all your riches.


Blogger Cranky Bastard said...

Riches, indeed. Such a treat it will be to trade all of my "stuff" for the ultimate in luxury: nothingness.

You still got it, gal. Stay spooky.

3:17 PM  
Blogger Cindy St. Onge said...

Hear, hear.
Brad, it's good to hear from you again. Thank you for your kind words, and for sharing my world-weary sentiment.

5:45 PM  
Blogger Queen of the Inane said...

morbid, crrrrrazy, and excellently designed...how could I not love it?

1:35 PM  
Blogger Cindy St. Onge said...

Thank you Hannah! I'm so glad you liked it. I'm thrilled that there are people who can relate to this stuff.

8:03 PM  

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