for me

death keeps mailing me nude pictures

with deep red lingerie dangling like

last words or beads of a rosary

and a fixture that is too pixelated for my tastes

i’m watching a hockey game

and it comes just before the bright side

the hobble of happiness in a drugged commercial

and the slurping win

there i am

sloped

taking after my mother in a white dress

seeing dreams breaking down into apnea

when the package arrives for me

to sign with letters i learned to read then bleed

slowly understanding that nothing is taken for granted

there is already too much in the box

it is heavy when i am not

light squeals out

the tv still roars the next meal

a restaurant is shown serving bone marrow

that is cooked by the best chefs that have ever lived

the handheld coffin is a new batch

where the skull is masked by a blonde wig

lipstick slips above the jawline

nipples are drawn on with hope and healing

that never arrives

you make me come

it says

i throw it out

moult into a couch carrying my bare thoughts

and think if there’s anything on still

or is it too late

now