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