a hollow carcass
with a kinetic spark
is nothing more
than hollow.

my body is a canvas
of old scars,
fresh wounds,
and someone else's art; my

thoughts drowned out
by the whistle
in my skull
and the echoes
in my lungs and

i'm chilled by
the breeze
between my bones. so

i silently offer
this pagan prayer
for the day i find purpose
as a meal for
the maggots
and the
earth.