Economics of doing what you hate
Incellic feminast

The dead are our zoo animals.
Their cages beneath the soil.
Listen to the earth breathe
with their desiccated lungs cracking/creaking

They don't care if we watch them ****. Hidden from our view

I want my body
Thrown in the desert
The
coyotes
To gorge on me

The vultures to
Eat my sin
No countries
Contain my carbon

Imaginary
Photographs
Of happy days
To keep me in

No funeral music
No black veils
My smile
My skull
My own
I die alone

No paper can encapsulate my life
No tradition will give you closure
You cant steal closure