1. I like skulls. I’m not goth or psycho. I’m not a forensic anthropologist, or
Hamlet. I like skulls because they have empty eyes, empty mouths, empty brains.
No sight, no voice, no thoughts. I like skulls because they are harmless.
2. Grave. Make way, the dead are waiting. Your plot of soil has done a rotten
job. You must cough up your supper, empty your bowels, give back the
dissolution. Bones are fertilizer. Skulls are for the mantel piece. Yawning tomb
with hunger pains like a puking drunk asking for another shot. Feed Me!
3. Hollow eyes look your last. These rotting wrappings flutter in oxygen rich
wind. Your well preserved, juiceless, corpse born up to the afterlife, awaiting
the thousand year resurrection. Well I am your God now. I will resurrect you
crushed in my garden, as a succulent, juicy tomato.