Selling Death

To sell death you will need:

A bowl full of tears

A sadness that shall pour out of fears

A vestibule of resting markets encroched in pills

A meditation on philosophy 

Talk of the need for mere solid gear 

But to let go of the fear you shall pay money

For a plane with an open door as you free fall

I shall sell you death with a sore bone

And hand you a talisman of gore thoughts you've kept inside your soul

The transaction is complete but you shall want more