put shovel to dirtA Poem by danburied alive, but not for long (alive)put shovel to dirt
i wake up in a box feeling cold, clammy and hungry. hearing muffled voices laughing in loud booms as a new sound emerges from the Over, with me the Under.
it sounds like waves of liquid mud jumping on my stiffened body without hitting me at all. the sound multiplies as the laughter spills over now into faded noise, the laughter of the dead.
the sounds become louder and more distant, which makes no sense. But how much sense is needed when one is buried alive in a shallow box of hell?
dan © 2014 © 2015 danReviews
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