I died last week,
or so I thought.
This evening I wake up
In my estranged body,
With my flesh rotting and sliding of my limbs.
I open my eyes,
Everythings hazy, like I'm under mirky water.
I sit up,
and hear crackles and pops
of my bones moving out of their
decaying sockets.
My clothes are but rags,
I barely have skin covering my rotting muscles.
But these things are not concering me.
There's pain.
The pain is Everything.
The painful fire in my stomach forces me up
and makes me awkwardly move the degraded body,
My body.
The full moon is pale silver with its casting.
A raven crows on the hour of midnight.
This night the feeding frenzy begins.
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