Autopsy

I can't
I'm out
no matter how hard I try
it's gone.
I stand naked before you
unzip my chest completely open
like the french doors of an autopsy room
my heart, in a platter, has always been yours.

Like a beggar begs for handouts
my soul, scarred and ran over
like a vegetable in life support
resembling a wrinkled pear.

Come, join me
let's walk on the train tracks
holding hands, on the way to the morgue
I want to see if you can recognize me
by something other than my lifelong scars.
Come, even if just out of pity
let's hitch a ride in the carpool hearse
I have a ditch to catch.

Like a kid with empty pockets
like a drunk without a bottle
the musical box is broken
and the tears have already dried up.
Look, at the procession in the distance
waving good bye.