The Final Resting Place

Here we are at your funeral, gray clouds hanging overhead

It's always overcast now

Tears stream down our faces

We perform the mourning wails

Adorned in black cloaks, with ruffles at the ends

High collars, low hanging veils, wide brimmed hats

No one sees the bright red lipstick

The fresh blossoming bruises across the clavicle

We love to play misery

Underneath the corsets and chemises

A pale pink ribbon round my thigh

A blood rusted blade pressed to the side of skin

Oriented like a lethal garter belt

The priest that witnessed our vows shall lower you now

We mourn the state of the world

And yet we watched you slowly rot

You flew on fated wings

Burnt and charred at the edges

Clinging to memory, what once was

You were young and beautiful

But we sucked the blood and drank the wine

We filled you with lecherous poison

You became a husk

The legacy you built with us, we burned on your behalf

Did you consent to the puppetry of your corpse?

We paraded you around before we buried you properly

We pried open your lifeless eyes

The contorted way you prance is profitable

How wonderful, to know your story will be told…

And retold…

And retold…

What matter if it loses shape and meaning?

What matter if we distort the truth?

Here we are at the funeral of our dearly beloved, Art

Let us mourn for their passing

Let us toast to the life they led

Let us feast on their body, and let no piece go to waste