I have been walking past a dead rotting body for weeks now.

A badgers body perfect looking at first and slowly watching the worms and maggots eat away at the flesh. slowly decaying and rotting and becoming nothing. this is life. this is real. and this is the truth. this is everyone's eventuality. that is our future.

The smell of death was unforgettable, and it makes me wonder why we try so hard when in the end we are just a body that will fade to nothing...

My body is the urn that holds my ashes.
No matter how I change its shape and design,
its purpose stays the same.

The body dies :
A crumpling
not an implosion
as I turn inward
on my own corpse
In a desperate gasp
for sustenance and revival
The result ? :
A flourish!...
but, then, a puff
deflation
The Surround caves me
collects arrears upon my vehicle
I am to make no feast
the body is the process

I always tend to have this desire when I adore someone. But something about you is different. As if all the flowers in my garden had no scent until I picked yours. I fear the smell fading away sooner than it hit my senses. The petals will fall and the flower will decay before it blooms again. I have to let nature run it course and I will see the true beauty to come.

Come here, my friend
Where the autumn leaves fall
In the pond there, down below

Don’t they look pretty
Oh such a pity,
That the prettiness always must go

You know it's not my fault
And yet you blame
Everything pretty someday decays

The balance of beauty
Seems to degrade
Once I am here, your old friend decay

I play a line between life and death
The new, the old
The now and regret

Now I'll tell you my friend
With your head held sadly
There must be death before life can be made

Ignorant humans,
Never recognize beauty

Once it starts to fade