the bird lay helplessly on the soft cement,
its eye sockets were empty
and its feathers were torn up.
dreaming a little dream
that consisted of empty space,
the contents of its mind
both literal and figurative.
the rot had set on swiftly,
the skin was putrid smelling,
the pustules were brimming
with the **** of death made swelling.
framed on the ground by
ants crawling all around its flesh,
they slid in and out
they played within the body's ruins.
the bones were now made of rope,
the feathers petrified,
the bird lay so still,
dreaming a sleep about a sky full of nothing
speckled red and brown and green and blue and
somehow reminding me of myself
in relation to you
and you
and you
and all of you
to all of me
to every last ****** bit of you,
I give you a dead, departed, decaying corpse
who will never fly again.
I will never fly again.
I will never fly again.
just let me lay and rot upon the cement,
*I will never fly again.