devoted

there's a cobweb dripping from my ear to my finger sticky threads shudder at the slight draft from the window how long have I been here my aching body stuck in this pose this feigned statue of reality dark bleary eyes circle my mind this morbid dream tortures and taunts me constantly soon the mortician (beautician of the dead) will pull the wires and lift my waxy face into a smile for people to peer at when I lay in that casket on display for the leering jeering ones who come to skulk around the room and snicker quietly with each other about how pathetic my demise was how I sat waiting until my breath just slipped away forever