Supine in dormant likeness waiting
A husk of unaware of the havoc within
Cells are bursting in a chain reaction
Decay is their only finite function
Flesh to liquid than rarified to vapors
Emanations of rot vitriolic to the senses
Finding escape routes through cavities
Witness the final dread of a narcissist
Lucidly shown by the gray cold light
That same rage nagging intermittend flicker
Conferring death its own dismal luster
With its subtle metamorphic changes
While a moth flaps its powdery wings
Dropping its chalklike residue onto
Dry spent eyes evoking their void hopes
Faintly glistening in the cold brightness
Years of self-centered consciousness
In the end also lead their way to this
Delusions of grandeur extinguished
Upon the dreaded dissecting table
Supine onto it welcoming surface
The smooth frigid feel of polished steel
Draining the last slivers of bodily heat
Nestled within tissues in decomposition
So torrid to the touch so cold as cold can be
The once delicate curves and features
Look so disjointed and angular as of now
Lifeless husk slowly torn apart by gravity
Lifting the limp head and pushing a trocar
Below the union of daphragm and sternum
Steel scraping the abdomen's architecture
Bleeding dry the torso's lower cavities
Of its purulent sludge-foaming abcesses
The embalming art meticulous in process
Not to restore the husk's former semblance
Merely to the defy nature's grip just enough
As to prevent further decay prior to entombment
Such a practice heralds a constant remainder
Of flesh's mortality as positively expendable
And utterly disposable unlike the inner fire
Lifting the limp head and pushing a trocar
Below the union of diaphragm and sternum
Steel scraping the abdomen's architecture
Bleeding dry the torso's lower cavities.