Pain

Sadness is my

Old-time homie,
We eat for breakfast,
Our misery.

We go shopping
Insecurities.
When needed,
Plan a heist to
Loot pain from
People's treasury.

Demons lend
Ears to our jokes,
Death wants with
Us a fair duel.

The cold blue
Is our fuel.
Guileful smiles
Elevate our pleasure.

We kill ourselves
In our own stories,
To listen to fancy
Eulogies.

Gods bet against
Our fate.
People distance
Themselves,
Vulnerability is
What they hate.

You seem to be
Keen though.
Hurt? or hungry?

Burnt dandelions 

Must have prepared

A feast.

Let's have dinner-

On the other side 

Of a grave.