peu-vulpse:

‘searching for sadness’ a poem by google search engine

sleepyphantom:

why do we think
that stuffing fluff
up an animals nether regions
is the best way
to remember them?

on show behind glass cabinets,
it kind of makes me feel sick.
the things they don’t
expose to you -
organs stripped bare.
dissected, cut and pulled,
leaving this empty
vessel.

to imagine my mother,
filling my entire dead body
with the same wired fluff.
putting me on display
in her living room -
fixed in a stance,
pretending I’m still alive
is a macabre sight.

for when we die,
we are dead
to the living.
why is that so hard to
accept?

I would rather let the earth
eat away at me,
or have the tide of the sea
swallow me whole,
than become
victim to the entertainment
of someone looking
through that window pane.
questioning on whether they
stitched me right,
or if this pose
represents my quality
of character.