I never saw what killed me.
Never saw what turned me into a specter.
It may have been a bullet to the brain,
Scattering my skull.
It may have been a blade to the gut,
Spilling my insides.
It even may have been a garotte to my throat,
Silencing my breath.

Personal or otherwise,
It doesn’t really matter now,
I’m dead.
Plainly and categorically dead.
I end up in the same place.
The bodybag,
My very own ferry over the Styx.

My very own ferryman too,
A handsome oarsman in a high visibility robe.
Followed by an orchestra of sirens,
And a ultramarine light show.
It’s a dramatic journey.
I bled out hours ago.

The bodybag fulfills its purpose.
It has taken my safely over the Styx.
It has protected me from the burning rapids.
We reach our destination,
Together.
The morgue,
Also known as the underworld.

 

Bodybag

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Comments
  1. sagedoyle says:

    I am awarding you the Seed of Light Award. There are also 6 awards I’m offering to all my readers, which you can take any or all of those. If you don’t accept awards, sorry about that, it’s just my way of saying thank you for coming by. For more details, please view this post http://wp.me/p41c99-MI Take care, Sage

  2. Osharlequin says:

    Reblogged this on WorldofHarley and commented:

    Bodybag

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