Remains spread across a mossy bed,
Trees warned of the wind above,
Dissuaded from reassembling,
Decided rotting was better,
Transforming into the earth below.

These hands,
These arms,
This torso,
This mess,

It’s more so,
Less so,
Guess so,
It’s so-so.

From moss comes the dewdrops,
Caught sight of the glimmer,
Travelling inside of fingernail beds,
Through pumping varicose veins,
The pressure erupts through-

These eyes,
These ears,
This nose,
This mess.

It’s more so,
Less so,
Guess so,
It’s so-so.

These legs,
These feet,
This tragedy,
This mess.

I’m less so,
More so,
Guess so,
I’m so-so.

Startled awake,
Thought I was fake,
It didn’t take,
For heaven’s sake.