A conversation with Death

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Death

Death, are you my maker? Master I am your slave.

Death, are you proud of me? Master I am your gentle fiend.

Death, are you ready for my plea? Master I am ready for thee.

Death, is it you or is it me? I need you, and you need me.

Oh, death my sweetest misery, you rejoice my dreams.

In my darkest hour death comes to redeem me, not you, me.

I am the slave; death is my master, ever so enchanting.

Under a dark cloud of dust, we are everlasting.

I know what I want,

I know what you need,

You want to see me suffer?

I am on my knees.

It’s the sweetest ritual of misery;

To know, to feel, the sanity.

I can see you reaching out for me,
never confounded, always decided.

I can tell by the way you breathe,
your death inside of me.

“I can feel your blood, everlasting heartbeats, escaping swiftly into darkness”- proclaims Master Death ever enchanting.

“Death, feel my nails digging into your chest, is there a heart that I can eat inside somewhere? Master, master, do I have something to gain?”- (this is my plea).

“I want to be punished, I want to obey, I will do anything you say”- Reveals Master Death somberly.

Death be proud, you take the best and the fouled,

Death be proud, you take the flawed and the geniuses,

Death be proud, you take the innocence and the evilness.

Alas, Oh, Death! "How much do I love you?" You inquire into my descent.

"Not enough to save you my dear Master Death, not enough to save you", I say again and again.

For I have no soul,

I have only my love,

I give only my consecrated body

An offering to my master,

If he will graciously take me under his wings;

As an apprentice, a mentor in slavering.

I’d listened to the words he’d say,

But in his voice I felt decay,

The sweetest chant you’d ever heard

It took the tears, it eased the pain.

Master Death everlasting’s embrace

Still cold inviting ever standing, pure grace.

Apprentice of death, slave to the master.

Master, oh master, let us drink from the sacred torrid waters of time.

Let the wine flow into the catacombs of your decadence;

Let us rejoice into the dawn and descent of men!

Death become my maker, master is the song into my dreamscapes!