No rush to destroy
the house though it is dead
and flesh is falling off the bone
while we go on living in the head
the eyes are windows now
where lips were is a gate
no tongue lies ready
anymore
this is the corpse's grim estate
I pray that it goes slow enough
I pray we can hold on
though its fate waits
for all of us
and finds us all no matter how far gone
the corpse is the reminder
the corpse is the retreat
this gross estate we fester in
the fate of all dead meat
what
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