Watch

the bodies falling from the tree,

Ropes snapping,

Throwing their corpses to the




ground,

Piling them high.
Pour


the gas can empty,

On top of the bloody mess,

Drenching them,

Drowning them.


Light

the match,

And throw it into the mess,

Engulfing them,

Burning them.
Touch

the ashes,

Feel the dead slipping through

your fingers,

See the soot covering your


hands,

And smile.
Breathe

in the scent,

Feeling them inside of you,

Feeling their pain,

Tasting death.
Sleep

in the ashes,

Roll around in the death,

Sleeping with death,

Sleeping with yourself.
Die,

in the soot,

So you’re not alone,

Death will be pretty,

When you die with the dead.