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.

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