When I hand this body back
I want it used and inked with sin.
I want it scarred
and kinda fat
with writers’ stories
written on me here upon my skin.
When this body of mine dies
I need it pinned and pierced with steel
I need it rough
and wrecked and fucked
with all the funstuff
on display right here where life was real.
When I hand my corpse over
I need it loved and overfed
I want it relished,
taken, used
And need my life’s love
on my dead face showing ravaged red.
With me I’ll take nothing back
No cash nor trophies cross the Styx
Won’t want a perfect body then
No vessel matters when its contents die with one last trick.

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