deluge

living corpse

my corpse is alive

solitude sat atop my skin
extracting melancholy
of which i forgot
constructed a home in my heart
(why do you think
my veins appear blue?)
now in an eternal flow
oozing from my pores
tattering my porcelain skin
lying in repose
i am consumed by floral fabrics
(wilting by the day)
my lips are not upturned,
not dragged towards my eyes
by the devil with two strings,
only moistened
by warm cherry cola
followed by
stale publix cookies
(the crumbs are merely decor
to the satin petals)
i force my eyes shut
til i have arrived in a dreamstate
euphoric and kissing a stranger