Rotting On The Vine

We walk around,

Pretend we don't see

The sickening joke

Played out on we

Have just a few years of juiced-plump skin

Then it slides off;

Back to the skeleton

Back to the dust.

See the walking skeletons.

We're not the living.

We're the dying,

Looking sicker everyday,

After the second decade.

Rotting on the vine is not glamourous,

But it will be contagious.

I'll spoil the home

If I've got to go

Back to the bone.

First your face cracks. Then,

Your hair colour doesn't last.

You try to hide in fat

(That's just a skeleton gift-wrapped.)

You've got an arsenal of creams

Fighting dehydrating.

If you think you can win

Maybe you should squint;

Back to the skeleton.

I'm falling from the sky,

But on my way down

I'm grabbing all life.

I'm not going alone.

I'll burn the seas, and level some trees.

I'll take a species

Back to the ground.

Not going alone;

Back to the bone.