Silent are the riverbanks tonight,
the old dock stands there still rotting,
eternal fog, grand ball of decay,
all shrouded - dark,
world has covered itself.
Alone,
a shovel marches between the graves,
no sadness nor a happy hum,
the predator feels its prey...
Closing in on new stones,
fresh and polished,
what a waste.
Plastic flowers lay upon the shining grey,
photos and other crap around -
seemingly forgotten,
no name, no face, just a hole
to the black gates of hell.
Dig, deeper into the dirt,
moist and a poetic smell
of unheard suffering.
Children, men, young women, all too late,
medical, natural, accident or intensional,
I feel nothing for my graves,
cloaked in darkness, hallowed in sin,
an infernal angel to inter your shame
Fuck, time again ... to put another in.