Death Talks to Life. Life Doesn’t Say Much.

.

“Fickle baby!
Half-aware:
saying maybe
while you swear
.
you won't. As if
you had a choice.
You see the cliff –
and hear the voice –
.
it echoes: goes
where you would like
to go: that rose
you smell? – that spike
.
of scent that draws?
Just try to stay
away. The laws
decree: you'll sway
.
to me.”
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.
If only you'd talk sensibly!
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.
“I do, my little honey bee.”
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.
Oh God.
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.

“No God.”

.