There are crime scenes that involve bodies.
A corpse feels nothing.
How lucky.
I walk through life with a body that is a crime scene,
Dust me for prints.
Good luck with the count.
Formaldehyde cologne façades my decay.
Make no mistake.
This corpse still breathes.
-J.G. Smith (10/23/06)
1 comment:
Interesting one. Especially the idea of walking through life as a crime scene. And I like the poem ending on a breathing corpse.
But another sad poem. Nothing cheery?
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