when i die
there will be riots in the streets
screams across the nation
a flash flood of tears
american flags serving as pyres

my blood will spill out
in the form of flowers
from a bullet wound
painting the ground with roses
attacking the police with thorns
growing from my bound chest
towards the sky.

i will cough up vines
and smile
with red on my lips
and petals in my teeth
so my curses will be laced with poison
and my death will be excellence.