Dissection

Cut me open and tell me
What life was I living?
Are my guts of a well kept pet?
Was I sick or unwell?
Did I make right decisions?
Did the smoking get to my head?
Is my soft tissued mouth,
Now cold and unwelcome,
Enough to please you to the end?
Did my teeth fall out
'Cause of sour regret?
Did I crush too much sweetness between them?
Are my paralyzed muscles and bones
Now perfectly hard for withstanding my fate?
Does my chest feebly wheeze when pierced through?
Has my cunt turned a mortar frayed by stone pestle,
Love dusted to clumps of the ligament?
Is my brain filled with maggots?
Hungry ticks plump with faith?
Is my cranium covered with nail marks?
Is my heart purely white, blood diluted with puss?
Would you like me to scream or is silence much more agreeable?
Dear pathologist, tell me sincerely,
Do you think I’m the prettiest corpse
That you’ve gotten to know with your instruments?