Dinner Party of the Dead

Smoke in their eyes
A silver glint in the wine
She’s serving scallops, salad, and strychnine
Bittersweet platter of petite deceits

The dinner party’s dead

“What’s your poison?” Said Death’s-head
Atramentous wings shed a decaying scent
“Jealousy.”
The Reaper fed

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Grew up in the Essex countryside and currently resides in London. Passing through his 30s far too quickly. Likes: writing, design, the arts, and copious amounts of coffee. He is working on his first novel.

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