The Giggling Of The Gig Of Graves

By Diwanshi Singh

https://youtu.be/5gXvItQzE4E

Finally, it is The time

To be dead, saying goodbye

To the forceful breaths.

The bell tolls announcing the final cease

Of something too much for this life inside my body.

I see,

Profound giggling graves welcoming

the gig on mine.

Giant Wheel goes on and on

White angelic - devilish souls

Horns unconnected, lights in the sockets

Clapping and cheering my soul

With every step they watch moving forward

Karma refresh with every round.

Stripping all the known and unknown from the dimensions of poison,

becoming and unbecoming,

Purer and purer

Absolute.

I see,

Profound giggling graves welcoming

the gig of mine.

Sausages and pasta

Chicken luxuriously being served and eaten.

Aroma of coffee, I smell

Flavored cakes and dark chocolate cookies,

Gobbled and relished.

Pool of Wine instead of Hell fire

But chilling hot still, burning ice.

Smelled of charred woods

I didn’t know Hell was such a mix

Of Blue ice and fire.

It is a feast though

And I was invited.

I see,

Profound giggling graves welcoming

the gig of mine.

High fives and lows,

Cups cheering, steel laughing

“Welcome lady, here, for you have seen and known.”

I nod, taking a hot, icy, crisp gulp.

I eat and drink,

Eat and drink.

Laugh and scream

As I walk through cold, freezing Hellfire.

I see,

Profound giggling graves welcoming

the gig of mine.

“What else is needed?” The ones digging and setting up my Home ask.

“Some burning ice”, I answer,

“some freezing fire, knives and thorns in bed,

Acid to quench my thirst,

Live parasites to fill myself.”

“Is that all?”

“Oh, and some ugly fragrance to spread optimism around.”

“Done.”

I lay,

Surrounding profound giggling graves welcoming,

the gig of mine.

By Diwanshi Singh