I can feel it
That slow rot of decay
Limbs, no longer limber
And the smell!
The flies begin to gather
Soon they will lay their young
Maggots
Who will feast on the skin
And lick the bones clean
Or maybe a predator
Will get to me first
And separate bone from muscle
That tearing sound
Drowned out by a warning growl
Or maybe I’ll fester
Sit under this sun
Until my skin turns to leather
Like some old mummy
Found outside her tomb
My skin will pull back
Teeth in a long dead smile
My eyes will sink in
Isn’t that what they do?
And cheeks will become hollow
I wonder if I will feel
The teeth, the maggots, or the sun?
Not, of course not.
Any feeling will just be a remnant
A memory, brought on by
too many late-night horror movies
And when I am done
Will my bones be as white
As they are in a medical room?
I guess that I will soon see
I hope that it won’t be long now
I am dying of curiosity.
