Man disgusts me
With his aberration for death
This nascent fear clouds judgement, muddles thoughts
And totally messes up living
As art form
Artful becomes distasteful, I know for I have seen
You see I am there at birth, every one, in omnipresence
Nobody comes in without seeing me first,
I am death and birth, a paradoxical problem, the numbers must match
I am an accountant of sorts, I deal in time and clocks
Ticking fucking clocks, they are right there, hovering over your heads,
Like halos but not halos, I know because I put them there, that is why
You must see me when you come in,
These clocks countdown like stop watches, bees around honeycomb
And Oh God do they buzz, Ticking and Tocking nonstop,
Till I come for you again.
Moving as shadow
Basking in moonlight
Eyes as clear as silver
For I must see men as they are
Not as they want to be seen
Man is taught to feel most important
Made in God’s own image,
The crux of creation,
Man inflicts sorrow on mankind
Man is war
Man is pestilence
Also has an equal capacity for love and compassion
The two warring factions are always in conflict
Sometimes I bet myself which wins
Is Man inherently good or evil?
Man is lost in the stars
I am the reaper, my insides are rotten
Life is nothing but an insect,
To be snuffed out by my hands
I walk amongst men
Silent as nothingness
Man does not see me coming
I cut them down in what they think is their prime
“Oh he was so full of life, why did he have to die in his prime?”
But really, his time is up
I operate under two conditions
That I am always on time
And I am supposed to be where I am
You decide how you live
I decide how you die
It is of no consequence really,
That you die
Death is just another extension of life.
For I am death the god.
The one that has surpassed self
Show me your true colours at time of death
Are you a coward or will you transcend god?
Will you cower in fear or face me and gaze upon my ugly face?
Row row row your boat
Gently down the stream
Merrily merrily merrily merrily
Life is but a dream.
I have the best job in the world
And the worst
Depending on how you look at it
I am a sojourner of sorts
Feet ache but hands are never weary
Here comes the Reaper
HA HA HA
People like to think of me as an eternally damned demon with no feelings
The god of death just has to be a sadist
For the Love of God
Ain’t that just pretty?
Why does death have to be gloom?
It is like any other biological event you shitheads
Death is like getting high, but you don’t come back from this high
So smoke some pot
Fuck a few bitches
How can death be such a chill guy you ask?
Well here’s the thing – I’m not
And the audience gasps
I can see the plot twisting on your head
No really you’re about to die
YOU ARE ALL GONNA DIE BITCHES.
AND I WILL BE THERE
SMOKING A FEW BLUNTS
WATCHING WITH NO A CARE IN THE WORLD
AS YOU BEG FOR MORE TIME.
Art compilation by @TemiMartin
Receiver Hand • Hegel Jorge.
Mystery • Terry Smith
Fantasy Illustration: Skulls, Death and The Hand • Aaron Lovett.
Charon, The Ferryman • Sensemann/Grim Reaper.
Heart Beating • Pinterest.