L.C. McQuillen
03.04.24
When I die
Donate my body to poetry
My bone as pen
My blood as ink
My skin as sheet
My organs as inspiration
Write of my smoked stained lungs
And the cirrhosis in my liver
Imagine why I left them in this state
Look closely at my cold, unmoving heart
And conceptualize what caused it to break
Fabricate how my twisted brain sprouted
Psilocybin in it’s decay
And what beautiful thoughts
Were not quenched in it’s lifetime
For them to now blossom within the grave