Dearly departed, Pray for me In life I still need to excrete Not only faeces but thoughts Just like food in my mouth I chew possible sounds Until they are… reproduced I think What I thought was art Is now a bit bitter on my tongue The saliva must be tainted With odours I’ve inhaled Because this ******* I taste Is too flavoursome I know this isn’t appealing But neither is the finished product Unwrap what you can Of what we toss down to you And swallow what you think is sweetest You know it will all be… sour I think What I thought was lasting flavour Turned out to be flesh And even as I write this I feel the unpicked hair in my teeth So that when I create I am secretly painting in words From the inside out I am closer to you in this way But in that way- Not so much.
Dearly departed, Pray for us In life we must run to you But in living we must wait Amongst the rotting peels We left in our backpacks For too long We’ve learned to speak About the smell But in doing so our breaths Stink up the air And our legs are getting stiff Sitting cross legged and festering thoughts Bubbling images we wanted To forget God, this is a witch’s *** But she forgets to stir it on hot days And we decay Faster than you do, I swear The curses don’t become me I know, the curses Must be me and them.
Dearly, Departed, Pray, and still listening I’m sorry about the foulness of everything.