Death is my Constant Companion

As I struggle through life, I live beside Death.

From the food I eat, to the air I breathe, Death is there.

Only the great Librarian, the Grand Librarian of the FreeMasons, keeps me from Death.

Being close to the Mayor, a man whose bloodline can wrestle back this dark Angel, whose name is Azaziel, gives me some comfort.

Death can come from many forms. I know most of them.

My dark secrets can kill most anyone, and I know ... I get to watch ...

Is it choking on food, the sweet food that only the diabetic knows the sweet taste of?

Or is it the closing of the heart in the night? That only those with the closed arteries of heart disease know?

But this night, when I go into the midst of the people, those primates that the Almighty loves so well, do I mingle with the those He loves so well.

Those drunken, whoring primates. Why does He love them so?

I live in fear. Those slow moments of choking or feeling the heart grow silent.

One extra piece of pizza will stop my heart. A can of fizzzing pop will make my kidneys stop. Will I merely go blind? Indeed, that is mercy.

As long as I read the signs, I am safe.

The diabetic will drown in sugar; the heart will stop with too much tasty fat. I am hungry, but food is Death.

Sugar is Death, call it Soda Pop. Fat is Death, call it Food. Air is Death.

I live with Death. He is my Constant Companion.

I am a subject slave to Him who commands Death. He has a sense of laughter.

After Death, who knows, but actually, I do. Having been dead already. Twice, actually. Who cares?

Those darn Capricorns, who are so, so efficient.

I see them on the bus, the subway, the street ...

... they have the mark on their head, or neck, or throat ...

food for the worms, food for those that live upon The Dead

At times, those wonderful times,

the aroma of decadence. Between the nights of cocaine and whiskey, and now ...

Will I die in the night? From sugar or whiskey or too much fat in the blood?

Ahhh, what vomit soaked end have I in store? Will I be drowning in my own?

What horrible end have I in store? Stripped of dignity, then sticky with effusion ...

Not this night, for I am but a slave to Him and His agenda of Total World Domination.

Oh God, I want to go home.