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reading my obituary in the morning with my coffee.

You can put me

in the ground.

 

You can surely do that.

 

If you have hands,

sure

 

and a knife, yes.

 

a gun, of course.

 

or,

i don't know..

 

run me down

with your car

 

toss me in

a vat of acid

 

or maybe

train your

Lioness

 

to maul me

 

and

 

to eat me.

 

you could get inventive with it.

inventiveness is good

i'd adore you for that.

 

or,

 

well..

 

i'd say,

make it

an old fashioned

kind of affair.

 

swing a shovel

well into my head

and bury me

where i lie.

 

you'll want a shovel.

yes you will.

your hands,

they're ***** enough already,

i'd say.

 

and,

it's an awful lot of work-

those graves.

 

can't make em too shallow.

you don't want to hang.

cuz they'll find you.

and they'll hang you.

they can't dig enough graves

when they forge for themselves

the RIGHT to do so.

 

...above ground cemetery...

 

They make Junkyards

out of neighbors.

strangers..

 

-anyone..

 

..anyone they can CATCH!

that they can get

enough sets of HANDS on

to hold down.

 

To judge.

 

With the collective mind

of the many-headed-beast.

 

and you're one of the moving pieces

in that swarm of hate..

 

..that frenzy of Blood-thirst.

 

that Madness of Zombies...

 

You are a vital *****

I've seen how you Pulse,

like the red in your eyes..

 

and,

so,

 

my friend.

my enemy.

I tell you this:

 

You can bury me,

i'll allow it.

I might flinch.

I might scream.

The body is involuntary.

It's a shaky contraption.

And you can bury it,

however you want,

but you can not **** me..

 

THAT....you can not do.

 

No matter how much you might hunger for it.

 

No matter

what DEVIL

your name may be.

 

You can not **** the Heart

which beats outside of this body.

 

You can not **** the Heart

which beats beyond this world.

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m
Written by
mike-1
Bhutanese
Published
May 17, 2017
Lines·Words
89·311
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