CORPSES BY O'REAL

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corpses
°
the mouth becomes an agape window
searching for breath in the fields of air
when the nostril turns to a closed door.
.
the hands are emblems of giving without
taking; death snatched away what was
left of the palms of man - unrequited love.
.
the body lays, supine, sleeping into an eternal
dream that depletes the chances of waking
into another series of consciousness. dead.
.
this is the role of those who lost to the bargain
with an angel that cowers in the hood of evil
by their encounter with blades, bullets, bombs,
burns, bruises, battery, blisters & blood baths.
.
this is the fate of those who are heroes to some;
villains to some & who are stuck in between
the bag & ugly incidences of accursed places
with their innocence to what evil begets.
.
this is the place of those who hide in their shells
of lifelessness; their souls are scared away from
their unwilling bodies; lending out their lives as
sacrifices for an unending war without getting it back.
.
we call them names unfit for a living body.
we find identities of agony for their folks.
we give them homes without company.
we watch them in ways we hate for ourselves.
.
war comes to us in many ways without weapons.
the stages of living amidst vicissitudes are wars too.
corpses are what we become after winning these wars
for the people we love, for their bodies to survive ours.
we never want to become corpses, but we must war.
°

O'real © 2018.

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