i've been shuffling around in the socks of a dead man

i don't want to die in a hospital bed
mummified quite politely in their
robe of humiliation
before they wheel me off to excavate any
unspoiled organs
to suit another ill-fated man

i should be out
on the charred pavement and
streets of dust
catching the taste of this bittersweet place
on the edge of my tongue
though the dregs and the derelicts
trudge beneath a weight of weariness
and i am fit between it all