Embalment

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.