Don’t dig me up.
I’ve resigned myself to the inevitable and I just don’t give a damn. I have heavy blood – I’m sorry the fighting ended, but glad that the struggle is over. I’m going to lie here and die by degrees – unnoticed and unloved. My sheets carry the aroma of soured dreams and my head is full of snakes.
Why can’t I breathe? Open up to the possibility of resurrection. Get myself a shovel and dig. Wave the ju ju stick – toss those bones and divine a new day with my name on it. I could leave this place and never look back. I could start again in a new town, with a new name.
Why don’t you dance for me? Give me a pirouette, a pasodoble. Go on - give us a twirl. The worst things in life are free and misery abhors company, but you are never alone with your memories.
I’m a puppet to my memories. I peer dimly through second hand daylight at my empire of rust and I don’t give a shit – I’m going nowhere – I’m in this thing until the last dog dies.