Fallen
O' Vial of Depression,
O' Cup of Life,
Holder of that blood which is bequeathed
From the blade which slices arms
And who delivers pacts with brethren
To carry on wayward descent
From a world incumbent upon
Complete and utter desolation!
Let me sacrifice to thee, then,
O' Master of the Fallen,
My final moments here on Terra
A few moments which are perpendicular
With ultimate spiritual finality.
O' Death, I beseech you,
Take me to your catacombs,
Your lair where, although bodies mingle with maggots,
There is the good, the ultimate purpose in mind
To rest these socially-weathered bones,
For they leave me with little recourse to
Stab
And fall.
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