I wanna be pretty Guy wrenchingly so I crave to be a sexual being A modern day whore I shake with this desire

I was always that kid Hand up first I will learn, as a philosopher Questioning the point When we’re learning about the curve

Am I special? I’ve been told not And haven’t we all heard Of the hormonal teen girl Who’s faux deep

Well I’m a little tired Aching with hunger I’m waiting to be a skeleton But I’ve never found The trick

The roses are pretty Wasting youth Makes good posts Dopamine like button Ain’t stupidity hot?

You promised me love Yeah, you fucking promised But skeletons don’t have hearts Roses always die And we’re joining them

Tap. Tap… Tap.

I keep a beat by tapping my pencil on the wooden desk. My head is full of thoughts, about anything but the exam. Ahead of me, the teacher glares.

Beside me, students slouch on the desks, their pencils scribbling lines on the white papers. I squirm, a bead of sweat rolling down my brow. I sigh, squirm some more- it’s really hot in here.

I haven’t slept in I don’t know when, I’m trying to balance time with my girlfriend and exams and studying- I sleep four hours then wake and jump back into study mode.

I rub my eyes and pick up my pencil. I know the answer to this question- I write it slowly, pencil running along the page.

Okay, good. One question down. Now, another. I push the pencil to the paper as if in a trance and write the next answer. It’s longer, but it’s exact. I think of her again- and shiver, trying to push her back out of my mind. My fingers itch to check my phone.

I look up, a skull is laughing at me. I look to the head of the class, the teachers jaw is open, white bone clacking as she laughs.

I laugh too, haha, there are skeletons in this class. Isn’t it funny? Oh god- I haven’t slept in-

Clack, Clack, Clack…

The fan spins overhead, blowing hot air all over my steaming body. Jaws clack- all my fellow students are skeletons.

I laugh nervously, pulling at my collar and puffing the hot air out. I squirm in my seat, hot air creeping up like a phantom.

I pick up the pencil shakily and write another answer, glancing at the skeleton in front of me, who has turned around in his seat to laugh.

Then, I see her walk into the classroom- my girlfriend. At first, my eyes go wide and I stiffen in my chair like a frail corpse. But then she looks at me and smiles shyly.

As I stare, the skin on her face droops, then falls to the ground like pale orange skin, exposing the lower part of her jaw. I jerk, and scribble another answer, sweat lining my brow.

“Here,” she says, her mis-matched eyes still there as she makes her way to me, skin peeling and dropping off like raindrops from the eaves of a house.

She stands by my desk, a flower in her bony hand, the flesh already gone from that part. She smiles and her eyes roll back into the back of her head, bouncing down her rib cage and rolling off her toes.

I don’t take the flower, instead I scribble more on my paper. Something pokes me in the back and I jerk, spinning around.

“Man, you were going crazy, you okay?” At first it looks like her again- my girlfriend- but I blink and I see that it’s just a classmate.

“Yes, yes. I’m fine,” I turn back around, to my normal class.

My desk is scribbled on, lined with wild rambles and codes that I don’t know the answer to. Beside me, the teacher stands holding my exam, one eyebrow raised.

I take it and exit the class, embarrassed, but not sure why.

Are you sure the skeletons aren’t real? My foreign girlfriend didn’t come here? Huh… that’s confusing.

I head to my room, open the door and plop on the bed. I glance at the exam in my hand. One mark. That’s okay.

I throw it on my desk, where it lands neatly in a stack. Something catches my eye, so I glance back. And you… you won’t believe what it is…

A rose.

Death gave me a flower today I said no thank you and turned him away. He looked at me wth saddened eyes, As if my rejection sent him to his demise.

Death gave me a flower today, I laughed at him putting him on display. A single tear ran down his boney cheek, As if his hollow eye socket sprung a tiny leak.

Death gave me a flower today, In front of all his friends in the sick bay. I grabbed the flower between my two hands, And crushed it gently into a hundred strands.

Death did not come today, Perhaps I finally scared him away. My skin did hurt and my head felt hot, My eyes they ached, my stomach was in a knot.

Death came back and gave me a flower today, I took it this time smiling his way. He snapped his fngers and my body went slack, My eyes they fluttered and everything went black...

I wish I was Death. Not I wish I was dead though that thought lists in my brain A morbid tumbleweed that drifts aimless Hiding behind doors, rolling out from beneath loveseats.

No I wish I was Death. If I were Death With a capital D The subjunctive made flesh I would be an agent of change Undeniable Respected, feared, desired, Recognized

No one ignores Death’s texts Or asks Death what’s for dinner Death doesn’t have to wait on hold Death doesn’t read the room Or do emotional lifting Death never runs errands

I wish the world quaked In my wake I wish I were the cutter of strings I wish I were the sleep endless If I were Death with a capital D

The quiet in the house was deafening. Time slowed to a crawl as it slipped away quietly. Her breaths were shallow, unable to sustain life. I remember her mouth so dry from lack of water. Sleep was the only thing she consumed. And all I could do was wait…

Closing my eyes at night was painful. Opening them in the morning hurt even more. I always wondered, “Is this the day?” Her eminent death seemed almost to be taunting. It consumed every corner of the house, every fiber of my soul. And all I could do was wait…

Her skin was cold and wet from perspiration. Her only movements were occasional twitches of her hands and feet. I prayed, “I hope she’s at least dreaming in color.” Every smile felt like the worst of betrayals. Even the faintest of sounds seemed piercing and invasive. And all I could do was wait…

Somehow, as empty as it was, it didn’t feel like the end at first. It felt sleepy and spent and decided but not quite final. I held my own breath as I counted hers as she slept. I slipped her hand into mine for conversations that were never returned. I kissed her face…not for goodbye but for love. And all I could do was wait…

Mama felt broken and tired and sad. She fought just to barely be alive day after day. Until she didn’t anymore. Until she made the decision that her time had come. Until she chose to die. And all I could do was wait.

Am I dreaming? Or am I awake? This lonely soul of mine, Is not yours to take.

Please keep your ruby rosebuds, Just leave them at the door. You do not scare me, My life is not your horror.

The vines may creep, Up, in and through But honestly, peace out. I've had quite enough of you.

I am procrastination Let me inside your head I’ll drain your will to achieve your goals You’ll never get ahead

Forget that story you’re writing There’s games to download in your apps Your writing can wait, it’s not going anywhere Just sit back, play and relax

I am procrastination I know what’s best for you Just come away, from that important task It’s something you can come back too

Your list of chores are piling up It’s fine, just leave them be You’ve been meaning to watch that box set So just chill in front of the tv

I am procrastination Your phone is your best friend Just Facebook scroll, and binge YouTube Until your hearts content

To which it will never be One more video is never enough Just send tweets, and make tik toks Until you feel tired and rough

I am procrastination I’ll help you in your quest To do as little as long as possible This is my behest

I see you’ve continued your writing And finished that list of chores It seems your will has overpowered me You are mine to command no more

I was procrastination But not anymore I have no power over you It seems as if I’m done for

I guess this is goodbye But Don’t worry, I’ll be back Because I am procrastination And I’m always on the attack

  Everyone wanted him, at least they wanted his attention. Why should Death be any different? Apollo was bored with it all, life had become rote and not even the thrill of courting Death could change that. He sighed and rested his face in his hand. The young god craved something different. What that was he did not know, only that he needed to escape the mundane existence of his immortality. Death for him, after all, was only a tease. They could never truly have one another. 
   The young god left his seat brushing past the looming specter as if it simply did not exist, which in his case was almost true. Death felt a colder than usual chill in its bones at the beautiful deity’s passing accompanied by a deep sadness. The feeling passed almost as quickly as it came because Death knew something the handsome immortal did not. Death knew that it was inevitable, even for a god. When the last man perished then even the gods would cease to be. Then Death would have its desire and feel the weight of the young god’s soul in its bony arms. Death was nothing if not patient. 
 Apollo stalked the halls of his home seeking some type of mischief. Even his sister would be a pleasant, if temporary distraction. They saw so little of each other, their paths crossing briefly as his day blended into her night. The ways of man had changed recently too which added to his malaise. There were fewer of the faithful than there had ever been. His duties, such as they were, had become meager, less demanding in the past few years. He turned a corner and noticed the black robe of Death in his peripheral. Death had never followed him for so long. His boredom was replaced with a slight sense of unease. Death was something he usually never noticed or thought of. Lately it seemed to be everywhere, following him. Waiting. 
     Below, on the mortal realm, troubled times had taken hold. The realm of men had seen the rise of many tyrants in its time but the new one was different. Time passed differently for the gods than it did for men and by the time Apollo had reached his next destination the last wars of man had ended. The tyrant had unleashed the weapon that would cease life, a fear held by many men but brushed off hastily by his loyal followers. 
  His hand was almost on the door of his destination when he felt the icy cold grip on his shoulder. Death had caught him finally, figuratively and literally. The god felt remorse instead of relief. In his last moments he was filled with thoughts of all he should have done and never did. The would be time enough, had been his constant refrain. Time was gone too though, like the men who worshipped him. Only Death was left. Inevitably. 

Yes... I’m here alone in this silent place my head rests on my cold palm’s face and my heart beats at a fast pace

Yes I’m here the sound of my heart echoes the room the second me can sense the doom lurking under the dark moon

Yes I’m here on this throne of misery I sit split between two choices; to live or to quit time is running out; tick tock tick

Yes I’m here i have a decision to make whatever I choose might be a mistake but I’m just ready to end this plague

Yes they are here their footsteps approaching so near the sound of their voices so clear and their aura striking some cold fear

They say to me You have nothing else to offer We present you paradise’ key Save yourself from this torture!