Credit

You were dead years before
your death

A lingering scent
of rotted flesh and broken spirits

An arsonists soul
leaving burnt corpses in your wake

With the violent silence
of pounding hearts filled with dread

You drained the blood
leaving victims long before your death

and with your death
the poltergeist remains

So on this eve of all saints
I pour a glass of whiskey
for your unearthed grave