to taunt death, a fickle thing
we dance on razor's edge
our fall from grace, a towers height
to worship the underborn, we pray
for shriveled lies once called life
such questions to be posed
in hollow tones, mark our descent of oblivious rapture
when yesterday's blur stagnates to memory
eternal we are, filled with loathing
and forever we will be
harbringers of death
to die is justified destiny
self medicated to enjoy the pain
and to you i ride for suffering
because death is your destiny

i like it; i read the s.o.b. twice actually, reminded me of things.

Well done I really like your style