Why do I place my life in your incapable hands? Giving you all my power and life force energy, handing over my divine power and sacred sanctum, Like I have no control of myself, I hand myself over to you giving you control over me, My mind, my heart, my soul, my body when all you do is disappear like sand, When you do, I fail to harness and retrieve my own being, Often lost in displacing my own self wandering in a mysterious fantasy land, Longing for a world of me and you... Lost in a memory of love, lust and desire, My mind escape every worldly hour, Sinking in to the depths of frustration around my want and need for you.. Still you don't see me... I stay gripped by the feelings of love and dwindle fast in to a dark hole of nothing and darkness, In my missing and longing and want for you, Like a trapped bird in a cage, longing to escape the mental prison, Wishing for the feelings to just go away one day so I can set my self free, Yet I still can't let you go, even though you are not here, You still consume and dictate my every hour, I wish I could recover my life from your hands, Even though you don't know I handed it to you, and your just as fickle as sand, I wish I could reclaim myself from the trenches of your love. I wish I could take my life back in to my own hands.

A curse. A curse that started with a promise a promise of immortality. Immortality, but at a cost A high cost

I was young young and naive so naive i didn’t think twice and now thinking twice is five times too few

i have eternal life but with life comes death and since i cannot die it is i i who decides decides who is to die

every day i must choose must choose a soul a soul to snuff out every day i must decide decide who is to die

each person a chess piece a piece in this miserable game a game that will last forever because i am forever

and it’s a curse. A curse that started with a promise a promise of immortality. Immortality, but at a cost A high cost

My job is death I do it well I choose who dies And who survives

It’s not just me There are others I pick one And so do they

We work together Yet we are alone I pick the evil Others pick the good

One per day Each of use choose It’s hard sometimes I’m full of guilt

They where bad But had some good And loved ones to So am I just

It’s been only twenty-three days since Stork quit his job, and there had already been 245 stillbirths and 31 sudden infant death syndromes.

Of course such a thing wouldn’t go unnoticed, but no matter how much everyone desperately sought his whereabouts, no one thought to check a zoo. Specifically a koala exhibit, where he and Grim Reaper just arrived at.

Stork gasped so deeply it sounded like he was choking. “Oh my god they’re so fucking cute!” He yelled.

Grim smirked and took a picture. “Chill, chill. You’ll scare them.” He teased.

A human walked through him as he said this, but he paid them no mind, already used to his presence being unbeknownst. He didn’t really deal with humans anymore. After all, they didn’t deal with him either—not after they discovered methods of immortality.

Grim Reaper was more focused on the doe-eyed koalas and their fluffy grey fur. Their noses looked so boop-able, and so real. They were actual, real-life koalas. It was always so astounding how everything on earth could feel so real.

Interrupting his thoughts was a sudden clamour, a door busting open. He and Stork whipped their heads to see what the commotion was. “Breathe, breathe! You’re doing great, darling!” A man said in a panicked reassurance as he guided his pregnant wife towards the exit of the zoo.

When she passed by Stork and Grim, they both had the urge to do their jobs. It was second nature to them.

However, neither of them budged. It was her time, Grim could tell, but he couldn’t take her. Nor did he want to. He quit his job too, after all, and humanity was probably all the better for it.

He couldn’t help but glance at Stork though. His feathered friend was so apathetic that his attention was already directed back to the koalas.

“…Hey, you could help them out, y’know?” Grim reluctantly suggested.

Stork glanced back at him with a playful scoff. “And go back to being overworked? No thank you.” He meant it as a jest, but an accidental, defensive tone slipped out at the end.

“It’s just one more job.” Grim Reaper lightly urged with an uncertain, yet encouraging smile. “Who’s being the lazy ass now, huh?” He then added to poke fun at him.

“Eh… I don’t really care about them all that much anymore.” Stork revealed with a grimace smile. “They’re so concerned with living forever, immortalizing their memory, that they’re hardly even alive anymore. So why give life to a race that’s barely alive? It’s like they’re not even real.”

Grim could only stare. He opened his mouth to reply, but his words fell short in his bony throat, and he turned to face the koalas instead. “Yeah.” Was all he said in response, dropping the conversation topic.

But when Grim Reaper glanced at his friend one final time, he couldn’t help but think of how his scythe might fit more comfortably in Stork’s grasp instead.

Elle always had long beautiful brown hair. Her boyfriend, Olive, always adored it. It perfectly framed her freckle filled face and was always soft as silk.

For years Elle's mother would brush, braid, and play with her hair. It was a nice change from her fathers smoky scent of cigarettes and the constant fighting. After her parents divorced her mother let go. She wasn't around family as often, and she would no longer play with Elle's long silky hair.

One night in December, Elle and Olive were in Elle's bedroom. Olive sat on the bed while Elle sat up against it. The two of them would chat for hours and hours on end. They never ran out of topics.

Eventually, Olive asked Elle a question. "Do you mind if I play with your hair.?" Elle looked up at him before answering. "Sure.." she said with slight hesitation. her hair hasn't been played with in years since the divorce.

Olive gently payed with Elle's hair while they talked about different things. Elle found comfort in his hands stroking her hair a bit.

Elle didn't know if she'd ever tell him about her past. Her life was in his hands.

On Sunday, I walked into your grandmother’s room And sat with her while no one else bothered, Listening to the rise and fall of her breathing machine.

She took my hand And told me her husband has been gone for thirty years But he’s standing in the doorway now And she’s ready to go dance with him in Heaven’s golden ballroom.

On Monday, I slipped into the baby’s crib And hushed his cries with the calmest lullaby I knew. He closed his eyes just in time for his midnight feeding And never had to worry about hunger again.

On Tuesday, I listened to the rumbling of semis under the interstate overpass And the ramblings of the veteran—

Says it was a thankless job. I understand the sentiment better than anyone. But it’s time to go— Where the zipping of bullets does not keep you up at night. The afterlife has more to offer than three hots and a cot—

On Wednesday, I stumbled across a fawn whose mother’s head hangs over a mantle And she bleats for warmth. I envelop her in the comfort of darkness And show her big, open fields with endless green in sight.

On Thursday, I visited the morgue to see if there were any fresh faces without a name. It was a boy under the sheet, no more than seventeen.

He divided in two, Rising from the slab like a hologram—

He’s been wandering the halls With no sense of direction, he said. He’s just glad he doesn’t have to spend another cold night alone.

On Friday, I needed a break. How many more souls are there even left to take? Oh, wait—

The job is never done. But I need a day off. Just one.

Saturday rolls around And I think I’m in the clear. I took a look in the mirror And saw the one who got away

Standing behind me. She extended her hand And told me Heaven had been expecting me all week.

Mary goes on Sunday, Mari on fri,

My heart aches as my memory begins to fade.

Jonah next week, during his latest feat,

Jumping off a cliff,

yet he didn’t know that Terius would cut the lift,

before diving down after,

Crying out as he fell faster.

Save me from this mess, I once was so innocent,

Yet a few centuries anywhere, can make you wish for fresh air,

Going stir crazy within my head, as little old lady Maranda dies in her bed.

Get me out of this mess, before I learn to enjoy this.

As the world begins to fall, I make the call,

And I’m not sure if there are any morals left to save you all.

You’ve flirted with me all your life but I’ve never let you go all the way. A kiss here a kiss there, remember that night you were going ninety, driving all night to get to me. You swerved and swore and your breath was visible and filled the car. Your lips brush against mine I cradle your face in my hands. I’m death but you kill me.

I wasn’t always this way.

Once, I held love Instead of hate In my ribcage. Once, I held another With delicacy Instead of crudeness In my phalanges. Once, My bones Cared. These bones Cared.

That time is over now.

This world Hurt her. It hurt her So much That she had To leave it.

She had To leave Me.

It’s your fault.

It’s all of your faults That she left me.

I made my sacrifice Already.

Four days after she left…

I left too.

But my business was unfinished.

And so I am here As your most feared monster. The same monster that took My dearest Adaline.

The irony Pains me.

You hurt her.

You hurt Adaline.

This world hurt My love Adaline.

You will all pay.

One by one You will fall.

And what better way To die Than in my arms?

I held her so gently.

She was like a China doll to me.

You cracked her.

Now I will break you.

Come with me.

I’ll take you to Adaline.

You can scream Your apologies From the deep Pits of Hell And pray that She values your life Enough to glance down.

But that’s besides The point.

Your life is held by Death’s bones now.

i wish i could be death he told me and every day i could pick who dies and the decisions would be easy the bitch that cheated on me day one the guy she did it with day two the kid who called me a queer in middle school day three the jerk-off who cut me off this morning day four

he continued on and on while i drank on and on

and he finally got to day forty-four and asked me who would you kill

and i finished my beer and said myself day one

he laughed and went to the bathroom

i went to my car wondering if i have in fact killed one person a day

maybe not fully but i’ve sure as hell killed parts of most