Curled on the sand
Ten miles back,
I saw the ghost of myself
And hauntings of my past;
I saw the shadow of a body
And my bones decaying at last.

Disfigured and hanging from a tree,
I saw my heart dangling above me
And my ****** fingers mangled in debris.

Singing in a valley
Twenty years back,
I discovered the remains of my voice box,
All blistered and full of cracks;
I discovered the accompanying crusty lips,
Lightly humming and unknown track.

Twisted and frozen in ice,
I discovered my one and only vice
And my once golden hair, laden with lice.

My body,
Once pieced together in perfection,
Has fallen apart
And become my collection;
Everything that was flawless
Is now enveloped in infection.