Death Might Tickle

(Published 10-31-22) When I had no name you gave me the name Death. Through the ages you begin to call me time. My real name Grim I am not a thing. Reaping is what I do. I’ve been related to disease, plague, famine, demons, curses, and into stories. I taketh & I giveth. If your lucky & don’t bore me, you live a full life. Suicide is a word you created to justify controlling your own life line. A word for you to feel in control. Most lives I take,  I give a small quick gift in return if you’ve amused me. You’ve given it a name as well. D.M.T What you don’t know is the real meaning behind it. A glance of my last gift. Death Might Tickle. A soul taste much better if it doesn’t know it’s about to become mine. Through the shift of constellations you try to lessen me by calling me time. The truth is I am & always will be uptime. I am what scares the most elderly & the sick. It’s not always quick, but sometimes I’ll blow out your wick to your candle. Sometimes I trick the sick by relighting your wick. A game I’ve played before your documented history. I see how you’ve tried to make sense of this through consistory. Others use psychohistory to try and break down the logic of my pathophysiolog