the highgate cemetery has reached full capacity and i am not going back home

i see myself as more of a graveyard than a person, the way i feel the dirt suffocating me and the casket keeping me in place and the different stages of decomposition switching up 

for hours at a time.

what im trying to say is that i feel just as stuck and dead as a plethora of cadavers 

under rubble, with a sickle across the throat, pennies under my tongue and a 

stake through my heart.

stuck, stuck, stuck

you kill the body and you kill the mind, the dream, 

what this carcass could ever become.

the soil gets heavier when it rains, you only have two minutes til the oxygen runs out,

and the coffin feels more comforting than ever before.

-f

(originally written may 2024)