my face is an open casket;
hear it recite obituaries and
watch the mourners cheer
and throw wild roses at my feet;
it's where the rot has started spreading —
like whispers. like applause.
rising, until my skin
resembles raw obsidians
until i am no more.
watch me hang from the ropes —
in hypnotic grace, like suspended light
flying, swaying.
a circus freak.
a certain state of decay.
watch me fall: a weightless,
motionless thing in the shadows.
a vigil.
yet the curtains fall
and mourners leave one by one —
their wrists, stamped with lilac ink.
a vigil.
a funeral.
a freak show and
its curtain call.
lay a cloth on this open casket.
i do not want to be seen anymore.
May 19, 2021
May 19, 2021 at 3:32 AM UTC
my face is an open casket;
hear it recite obituaries and
watch the mourners cheer
and throw wild roses at my feet;
it's where the rot has started spreading —
like whispers. like applause.
rising, until my skin
resembles raw obsidians
until i am no more.
watch me hang from the ropes —
in hypnotic grace, like suspended light
flying, swaying.
a circus freak.
a certain state of decay.
watch me fall: a weightless,
motionless thing in the shadows.
a vigil.
yet the curtains fall
and mourners leave one by one —
their wrists, stamped with lilac ink.
a vigil.
a funeral.
a freak show and
its curtain call.
lay a cloth on this open casket.
i do not want to be seen anymore.
Request permission to use this poem