When I am gone

In the end 

Of the whimper 

The sting 

Exploded 

Like a banger 

In the monkey bridge 

Like a chicken 

In the movies 

Eventually 

In the story

The investigation 

Exposes 

All the criminals 

In the plot which

Sends a ripple 

Through our cowling

It was minimal 

My existence 

It was limitless 

As our pride 

It was liminal 

This obsequious 

Validation 

(Burnt my conscience)

With hot knives

It will come 

Home to roost 

All this useless love and beauty 

All at once

When I am gone

There will be no 

Death or glory 

Rigid stupor

Not this story 
Life is a virus

Death is gory.

Pic Brodsky being plastered