"im feeling a tad famished"

my organs cover the floor.

rot, rot, and more rot.

for the latest downpour,

i made this cardboard grave myself.

from leftover pizza boxes,

so i can wallow in my grease.

i still think about you.

grease,

what a weird way to spell grief.

in my pseudo-death of filth,

and grime, and grease- of course.

i have nothing to live for

in an irony of sorts.

sauce on the walls.

my corpse in the bathtub,

"what were your last thoughts"

"i'm sure it'll wash off."