Needless Things: Kaleido-death-ascope

He comes not cloaked in black and gloom, But whirls within a prismed plume. His scythe, a spiral of fractured light, Cuts through the velvet folds of night.

A skull of chrome with eyes ablaze, Reflecting endless mirrored maze. He grins in glitches, shifting hue, From violet death to acid blue.

Around he spins, a disco god, In fractal robes, both fierce and odd. Each turn reveals a thousand fates, Behind kaleidoscopic states.

His laugh is synth, his breath is smoke, He hums in keys that minds evoke. Not dread, but awe, his sacred moon, A dance between the stars and tomb.

Bones don’t creak; they shimmer bright, A strobe of bone in liquid light. He waltzes through collapsing skies, With mushroom clouds behind his eyes.

Petals of blood and candy bloom, In twisting, melting, morphing doom. You die not once, but in repeat, In pixel dust beneath his feet.

Yet in his arms, death feels like flight, Like swimming through electric night. No fear remains, just shifting scope, Inside the Kaleido-Death-ascope. NNN