I stare inside on my life like a homeless beggar.
I watch my life proceed without me.
The party ensues.
No one realise or cares that my carcass on the table is simply that.
Music plays, people walk by, friends, family, strangers.
When they need something signed, they hold my hand on a pen and sign my name, laugh and walk away.
When they need money, they roll my body over and fish in my wallet for what they want, laugh and walk away.
Girlfriends and exes, sit on me and shove my rigored dick inside them, fuck me then walk away.
This whole party celebrates but mocks me at the same time.
I stare in.
Watching this life go on without me.
I'm dead, inside, but outside, I don't exist.
My shell is just for their amusement.
Their chatter of how they think of me is not whispered here, but openly shared like conquered quests, as they match story for story. Many lines starting with "remember that time..." then ending with everyone laughing.
My rotting body lays there and the bustle of the night flows on.
They lean on me as they talk and share drink. I guess they feel that means I was included.
They roll me over again and take more money.
A drunk girl leans over and proffesses how great her love is but then gets up and walks away.
Another straddles me again.
Everyone in this room is celebrating their benefit from me, but I am dead, inside and outside I don't exist.
Behind this glass window I watch time pass. I feel the season's on the back of my neck. But inside, my rotted stenched body lays and they party goes on.
They roll my body again and this time there was nothing to find so they curse me and walk away. The girls come over but there's nothing left to shove inside them, so they curse me and walk away. The drunk girl came back to proffess her love and when my dead lips didn't answer, she cursed me and walked away.
They came to use my signature but with crumpled fingers of no more use, they curse me and walked away.
People started to leave, not because of the stench of my corpse, but because there was nothing more they could use.
I watch them leave, until it was just me outside the window staring at me, dead inside. As they passed me outside, they glimpsed at me like I didn't exist. The real me never mattered. They turned their heads after seeing me...the real me, living, breathing, feeling. But that meant nothing to them. I might as well have been dead to them.
Silence took over. Standing alone outside the window to my life, watching the empty quiet room, as I wait to be adopted, by death. Maybe there, I will matter.
