roaches form my living blanket
maggots tell bedtime stories in my ear
fetid stench is my only oxygen
lungs expand as rats get in
eyes burn within something’s stomach juices
skin crawls with everything imaginable

it was too easy
the knife too sharp
it started as half a heart
and then stopped mine
now it’s just a twist in the gut of everyone
and their mother
a pervasive weight on unwilling shoulders
that time is supposed to ease

now words are nothing
more than puffs of air
they blow gently above my bones
disturbing nothing
no matter how much salt and water falls
for there is nothing left to listen