Combustion And Reconstruction

I have a stalker
Her name is death
She penetrates the outskirt
Of my being
in a dainty way
I’d love to do nice things
For her
But then I awake
To realize she is already dead
And full of nothing
But lies, deceit,
Rows upon Rows
of
Endless aging
And
decomposed catacombs
Don’t listen to her
She has a husband in Hades
His name is Napoleon
With a Napoleon Complex
Down Upon
rows upon rows
Of
descending
Ancient catacombs.
(A lot of rich people down
In the pit of the earth)
Where forlorn
Mansions of Hades
Reside,
Combustion
And reconstruction is essential,
Circumambulating the
The futile wreckage
Which preceded Dante
In his misplaced terrestrial wisdom

PS.
Don’t worry
I see my therapist today,

Selah