This is my best estimate of all that might occur
Someone might see my broken body in the road or sidewalk
Someone will get called to “scrape the meat off the street”
Someone will identify the heap of flesh
From the wallet and the sweater
And the kick-ass high-tops
Someone will inform the school, they’ll tell my parents
To come collect my things
Someone will inform my roommates
That their clown will not be returning
My friends will put two and two together
When I don’t respond to their messages or calls
I will no longer bother, disturb, disgust, annoy
Those who took the time to get to know this piece of trash
I was a bad person whose crimes were irredeemable
Whose sins were unforgivable
Whose hands will never be clean
Left to wallow as a monster
Making low, wet groans as the panic sets in
Morose and lost, our good knight, was he,
Suicide will be the closing act
To relieve my coarse, malformed heart of its own judgement
Whether its path leads to salvation or a flaming coffin.
Observing fuller, more vibrant forms enjoy life
A wretched smile spread from arch to arch, process to process
whose splayed skin and mangled teeth could easily fit a gun between
The call of the grave cannot be ignored
A shrill static that rakes the mind
ALL IS DUST AND QUIET
Endless anguish overwhelms, I gaze in mystic portal
The pain of horrific torture,
The Green Feeling washes over my hollow corpse
A memory of a broken soul trapped in broken body
I shed tears as the room grows smaller
I dance with demons in the dark
And the kick-ass high-tops