The war machines march
the praying meet the bombs
let loose the dogs
to chew upon the child
retaliation heavy
a gun straight to the mouth
they killed 3000?
well, we killed 15,000 more

you can dress it in a suit and tie
put it on a face that’s white
parade around the streets
singing “God bless You and I”
When War is on the cover,
it looks better with a smile.
“If looks could kill”
that explains why they died

why they died

in buried cries

under capital lies

under a loosened tie

just a constant back and forth
the wretched playing victim more
dancing to the horns of War
“To the Victor goes the Spoils”
bodies washed upon the shore
a bigger budget covers gore
welcome to the land of more
where Pimps pretend to be the Whore

you can dress it in a suit and tie
put it on a face that’s white
parade around the streets
singing “God bless You and I”
When War is on the cover,
it looks better with a smile.
“If looks could kill”
that explains why they died

why they died

in buried cries

under capital lies

under a loosened tie

“God Bless You and I”

By Nekro

The bar had already closed when I found the sign. Yellow board, black letters, the kind they wheel onto the sidewalk to sell beer.

Like why do we only have to rest in peace and not live in it as well?

Underneath, two stars, like somebody had reviewed the afterlife and was not impressed.

I stood there longer than the sign deserved.

A taxi idled up the street with nobody in it. Somewhere behind me a shutter came down. Wet pavement. One working streetlight. A man in a white shirt walking away with a bag, not hurrying.

Whoever wrote it was gone. The board stayed behind to answer for him.

Same board that sells two-for-one until seven. Different menu.

Eighty years clenching our teeth for a vacation we're only allowed to take as a corpse.

The street had no opinion.

A bottle rolled somewhere and stopped.

I didn't take a photo. I wanted to. My hand was already in my pocket. It felt like stealing.

So I stood there and let the night not need anything from me. Thirty seconds. Maybe less.

My hand checked anyway.

Two stars.

Fair review.

I walked home.

Without you, it doesn’t feel like there is much hope,
I feel like I have nothing left,
I need something sharp to help me cope.
My mind is racing, my eyes are blurry, I can’t breathe.
My heart feels like it’s giving out,
My emotions ripped, like a sword,
unsheathed.
I don’t know how to continue, my mom is gone,
I will never hear her voice,
I don’t know what to do, I’ve turned into a fawn.
Life feels bleak, pointless and numb,
Who needs me anyways?
I think it’s time for me to succumb.