Over My Dead Body

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My spirit will linger
A few days, I'm sure
Late as usual..
Even for Jesus Christ himself
Just so I know they lay me to rest
Upon the laurels of my legacy,
And not upon the crest of my potential

A room full of people,
Half of whom I either fucked or let fuck me over
The other half only wish they did
Crying about how they wish we'd been closer
Preaching about how much I'll be missed
Though they always seemed to just miss me when we actually had the time
To kick it when I was alive
Share these open casket conversations
Just to find me already dead inside
One step closer to becoming a famous writer, I suppose
Give them something to go home about
To lose themselves in their teenage prose
Aftertaste of my metaphors still lingering in their mouths

I couldn't say the end was either fire nor ice
Death just sorta strolled into my house
Put on my clothes
Wore my favorite fragrance
Death had me looking nice
Lips sewn shut at the gums
Still they'll hear my sonnets hummed
Like church hymns
In the dead of night

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