Michael Wilbanks


Distant memories lie still in their graves
Waiting for their lives to be sparked
The bones of some, unblemished and white
While others seem grievously marked
Where a flash of distant lightening
Or a faint forgotten pain
Has rent them from their catacombs
Where their immanence has lain
They grace their tombs with eerie dance
In circles ‘round circles of shame
Then seeping back to their resting place
They take a piece of life to claim
And while these demons dance in tribute
To reality as it slips away
A true deceiver takes its place
And dances darkness into day
As all tombs in life are plundered
As each is overturned
Leaving not one expectation
That one has gone unburned
As you find your pretentious world
Lost in the smoke of your lies
Feel comforted in your blindness

…Death is dreadful on the eyes
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