Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

The Autopsy Report

The exquisite c(o)rpse,
Laid out in all its glory.
Poked and prodded,
Barely real.

The exquisite c(o)rpse, ,
Skin pulled back.
Truths revealing
A fate not sealed.

The exquisite c(o)rpse, ,
My fellow friend.
Eyes the size of saucers,
Rolling around like marbles.

The exquisite c(o)rpse, ,
A taste I cannot find.
Proving endless,
A trail of disease.

June 30, 2009


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The Autopsy Report

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