yea i wrote a poem about a year ago about a candle inside a pumpkin


Inside A Pumpkin Corpse

From the inside of my pumpkin hideaway,
I can feel the echos of the rain.
The falling drops resonate throughout my pulpy shelter.
They shake my waxy pulse astray,
fraught with fears of fatal floods.
My October haven proves a worthy shield.
As it protects my life from extinguishment.

My undaunted flame radiates across fleshy walls.
Luminescence leaking beyond carved,
sculpted, crafted windows.
A gravel-tooth smile flickers in response.

This is my night, my only night.
To shine, to glow, to breathe.
This eve is my single, living eve.
For in the light of the morning,
I will smolder amidst a moist and rotting grave.

Snuffed.