The Kindness of Vultures
Please be kind and pick my bones clean.
rotting away in the sun.
Above me, cars are whirring past.
Each one, suspicious like the last,
from the ever-growing smell
that beckons them straight back to Hell.
One last thing God always forgets:
Be sure to consume my secrets.
Nest them tenderly with your eggs.
Don’t urinate them on your legs
Then I am nothing more than meat,
another juicy corpse to eat.
Eat ‘til your heart’s content is true
for I’d never want to be you.