my corpse holds more control of my portrait than i do

when i die my description lives beyond my control

when they read my eulogy whos name will they say and for whom

how will they document my dissection

oh what a joy it is to be vivisected! what a freedom to feel the wind upon my bleeding organs

communication is a kings excuse for subjects

do i want a legacy that lives beyond my control

what is identity if not the noose another ties for you?

if not a rabbit being cut in twain with the finest thread

the processs of becoming is becoming a body ostracized from eulogy

I am much less of a person than i am a flood gate opening.

burn my eulogy