Wallowing In a Coffin

It's like showing up to a funeral home with a suitcase,
uncomfortable and cold
once inside you realize everything is dead,
that's the only way to describe it
the only analogy to give,
my life is devoid
I feel it decaying  

honestly, I'm to fucking lazy to care or fix anything,
past writing this poem,
I'll own it now, only to forget later
but that's what the dead do,
we forget only to remember again
and so on and on and on and so