They said, I should pretend that she was sleeping That dying wasn't so bad And I should have faith, Hope, That she would wake up To cradle me in her arms again
But she didn't. The tubes crawling under her skin Only grew in numbers.
This would be her fight Struggling by herself Her foes outnumbering her Slithering down her throat Suffocating her, They make her breathe Gliding under her soft skin, They are nourishing her
They are inside of her!
She looks like life has almost left her, And now, the snakes **** out the last of all that is her Her warmth Her softness Her plumpness They say it isn’t so But I am not blind
They say, it might not be too late, But only Rigor Mortis is late Nonetheless, he will come Along with his hooded brother Just because her limbs are not stiff Does not mean she hasn’t passed *limbo