A cemetery of alien bodies
Perfectly numb
Absurdly cautious.
Talking in practised rhythms
About dents and curvature.
Stripping away hair
To let the glint of sun
Fall on naked skin.
The soft edges of
Rotten leaves remind us
Of all the beauty
We no longer care to see.
Convinced by strange voices
Guarding the prison
Of our shortcomings.
Floating in the stale memories
Of years gone by
When we were nothing
But our own shadows.
The hour of self-loathing
Dawns upon us.
The crooked nose.
The misshapen skull.
The frizzy mane.
The scrawny muscles.
These imperfections of flesh
Carve out a mutilated soul.
Streaks of textured blood
On empty white sheets
Write obituaries of shame.
Allow the pain to wriggle away
As your veins murmur
For a cruel return of purity.
Your posthumous desires
No longer tremble
Beneath your membrane.
Don’t allow their whispers
To bury you before you’re dead.
A cemetery of alien bodies
Perfectly numb
Absurdly cautious.
