Waltzing through corpses
I can finally breathe—
The stench, the filth
Are all mine to bear…

I can lie back now,
And observe the play
Of lust and decay,
Did you know?
Doppelgangers howl too!

Moments will turn into minutes
Minutes will turn into months
And my feelings, too, will become
Museum objects—
Shelved and preserved
Antiquities on display…

The corpses will return
To haunt my waking hours;
But next time—
I will let them pass
Maybe.