Everything is an epitaph
A requiem for my life.

I lay in bed like one corpse
In particular
But, I can't quite get it right.

I lay there being Che on a gurney
His arms limp by his side.
His eyes agape at nothingness
Cause his brains were blown out.

You only got the profile shot.
His good side with no abhorrent holes.

I sit
moribund in my bed
Unable to sleep with light shining
Out of my eyelids.

Me, a snapshot of death.

A soul turning black with pooling spiritual blood.
Bloating and sloughing off
Pretending to be dead.

I just wish it were real,
The annulment of Nolan Bucsis
Forever stuck a corpse in a bed.

Until the rot wafts into the nose of a passer by
And they find me in the ichor
Of blackened blood caked on my linoleum.