I am in between the realms of death and living
I have grown to accept the magnificence of the afterlife and what lies along that path
I romanticize about my flesh being eaten and my skin being burnt
And I dream of a life worth living, trips I wish I could document and capture with my vision
I plan to store towers of written events, and the ink will be the blood released from the slits of my wrists
And I hope I will not run out of ink before my feet land on the concrete and the soil I will soon to be
I aim to breathe a life of expectancy and my goal is to become the earth and the waters that serve as coverage
I want to be thought of as I am still living, and I want to be remembered as I enter into deep slumber of a casket that bears such aesthetic
For that, I like to believe that we are all works of art
We are walking and breathing future statues, but in death we will ebb into the dirt
As of now, our ribs are the servants, bones that are built to cage valuable possessions
So let us continue to breathe and live, and for the remaining years, let us anticipate for what comes after
But right now, you and I are alive, and that's all that matters

n.j.