Puff, Puff, and Away

The death ending of Blood Moon (no spoilers)

I have begun,

when I'm weary and can't decide an

answer to a bewildering question

to ask my dead friends for their opinion

and the answer is often immediate and

clear.

Should I take the job? Move to the city?

Should I try to conceive a child

in my middle age?

They stand in unison shaking their heads

and smiling--whatever leads

to joy, they always answer,

to more life and less early. I look into the

vase where Billy's ashes were--

it's green in there, a green vase,

and I ask Billy if I should return the

difficult phone call, and he says, yes.

Billy's already gone through the

frightening door,

whatever he says I'll do.

All my dead friends by Marie Howe

Image of painting Huguenot lovers on St.Bartholomew's day

Huguenot lovers on St.Bartholomew's day by John Everett Millais

"When the clock of the Palais de Justice shall sound upon the great bell, at daybreak, then each good Catholic must bind a strip of white linen round his arm, and place a fair white cross in his cap.—The order of the Duke of Guise."

(I know the poem is not technically about death but I love it too much not to make y'all listen to it)

"And She Was Gone" from "As Told by Ginger"

Any video by Syrmor.

Banana

Joseph's reel

i like to pretend i already died and asked god to send me back to earth so i can swim in lakes again and see mountains and get my heart broken and love my friends and cry so hard in the bathroom and go grocery shopping 1,000 more times. and that i promised i would never forget the miracle of being here

Post by @arthoesunshine.

i hope death is like being carried to your bedroom when you were a child & fell asleep on the couch during a family party, i hope you can hear the laughter from the next room

From lilies abounded, @petfurniture (now deleted)

The ending of Transistor (Watch at your own spoiler risk)

And God,
please let the deer
on the highway
get some kind of heaven.
Something with tall soft grass
and sweet reunion.
Let the moths in the porch lights
go some place
with a thousand suns,
that taste like sugar
and get swallowed whole.
May the mice
in oil and glue
have forever dry, warm fur
and full bellies.

If I am killed
for simply living,
let death be kinder
than man.

Poem by Althea Davis.

Stuff about death that tickles my brain