A Full Time Job

Some people refer to me as The Silent Killer,
though I prefer The Silent Gatherer.
“Gathering” vs. “killing”.
Which would you prefer?
I can be good, or bad.
It’s really up to you.
I’m just there.
I’m just doing my job.

 
It’s not like I want to do what I do,
believe me.
It’s a job, and the likes of me deserve a break
once in a while.
It’s not easy,
no, Sirree.
But, if someone’s gonna do it,
it might as well be me.
Given the choice,
I guarantee many people would prefer me.

 
We come in a variety.
Deaths are serious business,
some of them, even malicious.
Peace is my forte.
Toxic, fatal,
but peaceful.
You wouldn’t even know
if I was coming for you.
Sometimes, it’s an accident.
Sometimes, it’s on call.
Those are the worst
‘specially the aftermath
of living tears.
That part is hard
if I allow it to affect me.
I’ve learned not to.
I remind myself
“It’s part of the job.”  

My job is kind of a ride.
I enter them, 
you see.
I stick to their blood parasitically,
no stench, no taste, 
and allow myself to travel
through the roller coaster veins
and block all the entries.
O2 and I, we don’t get along.
So I kick out the 2,
add in the carbon. 
It’s not rocket science,
but it is a full-time job.


Regardless of the combustions,
I will slowly but surely pass. 
And if you’re lucky,
you’ll know. 
But if not prepared,
I’m slick. 
More than slick,
natural, 
a dream.
Just close your eyes, 
and I’ll be your blanket.

 
Passing through to the other side is
puzzling. 
Oh, the look on human faces. 
I gather them up, 
watch them pass on
and remain to be discovered.
Then I wait to hear the living cry.
 

Stay neutral. 
The employee most often
receive the blame.