the corpse next to me
May 24, 2012
On The Slab
I am dead. A ghost. Wandering through my days. Ask anyone. They’ll tell you. Everyone sees through my act.
I cut myself. That blood. Flowing down. Feels so warm. Tastes sweet. Like it was someone else.
Descartes. Lay in his coffin. Like he was in a blood clinic. Doubts all gone. He would have laughed. If they had taken the earth off his chest.
Last night you started sweating. You smelled like a small mouth bass. When you stopped wiggling. I tried to comfort you. But your skin came off in my hands.
I finally got comfortable. The corpse next to me. Said she had no regrets. I was okay with that.