[ WP ] One day , you find Death weeping on a park bench .

I saw it there as no one else could, exhaling poisons and flies, face wrapped in bloodstained gauze, robes imperviously black. The world moved around it, through it. It saw the world but could not reach out to it as star forever trapped in the dead depths of space. And it convulsed in a way all too human, with fits and short breaths, the place where its eyes should have been were cold diamonds pierced through a veil. I took a seat beside it. 
 
 
 “ Will I die now? Or have I already died? ” 
 
 
 It weeped in bursts, its maw pouring tar and broken glass. 
 
 
 “ You are all dead, marked with the frailty of life, pale ribbons of flesh against the pounding waves and rocks of time. And you are all beautiful in your death. I am eternal; I am cursed. ” 
 
 
 I held its hand, thin to the bone, skin gray and dusty. Even in the fullness of day it was cold. From behind its eyes I saw a thousand worlds burning; a thousand-headed raven vomiting corpses; a thousand miles of viscera strung on trees like Christmas lights. 
 
 
 “ I long for the judgement I deal, as do all gods. My violence is what I would inflict to myself, that is why I weep. You should not fear my face; you should thank me that your innocence is spared. To face eternity is death unending. ” 
 
 
 It kissed me through bandaged lips, my heart filled and burst, and, I as I convulsed on the ground from an aneurism, it wailed, and for those last seconds, we both foolishly wished we might trade places.
