Dirty Job's Confession

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Dirty Job's Confession

That day you were sickly in bed
I was seething within you.
I came for you, their time will come
While they sit helplessly in stiff-backed chairs

I’ll get you in your finest suit
I whispered to them “Grab the shovel”
I’ll detiorate your best qualities
And I’ll bleach your face

I’ll shorten your breath
I’ll tell them there is a chance
Just to take you that night
I know you’ll fight I know you’ll fail.

Make the Reservations.
Make the Date.
Call the Carpenter.
Don’t be Late.



I went to confront noisy neighbours, only to find the windows dark, stuck with two notes. The ghost, too, had "gone fishing". Something still whistled.
— Liminality