greetings from the graveyard

> congratulations, you made it.
welcome to my grave, waldo.
you were sorely missed, the doctors explain:
they found traces of you in my scattered brains.
the funeral’s starting, so you better hurry, and-
scurry on over to the stand. stand there, right there,
with every other suspect, or sit in my jury, and unleash-
your fury at my killers. careful, though:
the mirror tends to break.
>

> look at me, though.
i lie face up in my casket and hand you my basket,
watch the apples: some rotten, some-
golden; hold them in your fist, and cross-
my name in red right off your list of survivors.
walk in my orchard. take your pick, or-
grab a fallen stick, and beat me till i’m dead,
and you’ve said all you want. haunt-
my dreams, and i’ll sleep forever, but-
eat your apples. some golden, some rotting, it’s-
nottinghill in my heart, in a desert of your dreams, so-
scream at me. fight me, now. write me letters, felon,
from the prison of your mind. find-
my heaven, and make it your hell.
they’ll take a couple days to get here, and only-
time will tell, only time will break the shell that you bind-
me in.
>

> rewind-
the music. rewind-
this heartbroken lovesong, dig-
your prongs deep into my chest, and-
smash your head on it. crack it right open,
and look at your portrait:
it’s the picture of dorian gray, but hey,
stab it. stab it all you can, ban-
my books from your store, bore-
a tunnel as deep as you can, bore-
your tunnel into the depths of the earth,
lurk-
in the darkness, for it’s all you’ve ever known,
but burn my candles still, so you won’t be-
alone.
>