I am not a fan of Graveyards.

I Panic.Who am I to walk amongst the dead? Treading by their heads, their bones of dust--
They've ceased to breathe to laugh to eat to love to trust; the rot of skin & sinews crumbles silently, softly-as snow falls-
within their tombs.
The creaks & crumples of waxy greys, imploding to the black-
It is so loud--their lack of sound, it triples the volume I create by simply
breathing...
...This is internally where they are to exist eternally. So who am I to disturb their silence
with my pounding heart, my bleeding head of thoughts & dreams?
This silent yard is no place for someone as alive as me.


Why I panic when I'm asked to visit a graveyard.

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