girl is afraid, is losing her footing on thin earth over coffins, is losing her eye in her camera.

she laughs at epitaphs and jumps on skulls and imagines a thousand stirring souls whispering legacies into her lungs, railing against her eardrums. she imagines she has desegrated eternity. she imagines her eternal retribution.
but she can't imagine Death.
though he is desperate, hungry for attention.
the young pretend they don't know he exists. the old pretend they've forgotten him
while
wild flowers sweep through whole families, aesthetic plagues. and heavy stones fall on thin wood propped up to restain them. old men. cheap canes. monuments disintegrate: illegible. erased. silenced by nothing in particular.

Even the epitaphs are dying.

Labels: By Ana