Custom Made Death

Hello my darlings,

I don’t usually do this sort of thing (inflict my poetry upon you, I mean). But it has been one of those weeks and I feel like maybe if I release this poem into the world then I will feel some sort of relief.

I hope you enjoy it.

Your most adored,

C.N.F.

Sipping morphine with my veins

High on Novocain, anything to

Dull the pain, my angel of death,

Gives no anesthetic, only a

Sharp scalpel through the stomach

Ripping it open, she makes me

Spill my guts, I profess that I love

Her but it’s not enough, it’s always

Been rough but it’s getting harder

The days getting longer, it only

Prolongs our misery like twins

Conjoined at the fingers, our eyes

Only linger on each other, we

Cannot see any farther, sew my eyes

Shut so I can stumble blind, lost in my

Mind, unable to find my way out of the

Labyrinth I have built for myself, stone by

Stone, I deserve to be alone, wall me up in

Muiredan, let Pharun take me home

Serviell is my Versailles, keep me close by,

I’m not a threat if I don’t wander, sentence

Me to execution, the only possible finite

Solution to this growing epidemic that

Infects the people around us, sickens

Them as I am dying, I’m through with

Trying to resurrect the corpse of what

We had, so let this madness cease,

Gen, Alec, Rashna, Crowley, Marius, my

Felicity – let Costis, Lord Horn,

Shrukian, Aziraphale, Lestat, your

Pharun – die in peace.