Autopsia
Content warning: body horror
The surgical steel is reflecting my eyes, My cloudy irises holding the form. A red-letter Y of a full-body size, The heart overheated is no longer warm. Confirm every sign before taking the blade, Be sure that my shell has no human inside: What if I’m still sleeping, my dreams in cascade— No visions are left for these eyes open wide. I am just a number, a case in your file, A minute for you, but the end of my dawn. Be gentle, my coroner, gift me a smile, The very last gesture before I am gone, Be gentle, my coroner, don’t drop my heart, Don’t break it against icy tiles of the floor. No blood in aorta, no breath to restart, The signal has faded inside empty core. The very last time close my eyes with your hand, The tower has fallen, has broken the chain. Another existence, a far-away land Is where everyone meets each other again.