five

With rotting moldy fingers gripping eternal hope
rotting minds pour from boxes

in our time of passing
we are sealed and delivered

halfway to hell and no longer on earth
preserved pickled and stored away
we await the reckoning
we await the worms

leave me to the vultures high on top the post

please

don't soil the earth with my carcass
let the flames carry me high to god
let my spirit break the binds of gravity

but no,

i dig

I dig and I dig
down to the surface
but my rotting moldy fingers snap
off in the mud