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Friday, January 16, 2015

Post Vitam

The funeral clothes make the man
In starched up suit holding rigorous pose
Unseen stitches upon lips and eyelids
Firm little plugs stuffed up the nose

What secrets can he have after being embalmed
After an intravenous feeding of formaldehyde
All made up in product like a blushing bride
And an unseen air freshener tucked away to the side

Shit doesn't stink anymore
And neither does decay
In this state of the art facility
Where nature is kept at bay

Everything is wigs makeup and body filler
Making dead slabs of meat look like they are sleeping
Until you touch their hands seeking comfort
And realize that this is just a nightmare fuel feeding

Oh when my heart finally gives out
Give me a cardboard box to call home
Complete with all my parts
No danger of postmortem farts
Slipping silently at last into fiery crematorium