DEATH Poem: Throw me in a hole and use my guts to grow the grass, by Ryan Arnold

A quiet, simple, relaxing death
Stung by flowers
Eaten up by sunshine
The smell of coffee and cakes
As I choke

A death, outside
Farewell bid by trees and beams of light
Curious, comfortable sunkissed
Fading to black as naturally as the end of a movie

What is death like?
Is it peacefully breathing
God’s sleep apnea machine
covered waist deep
In plastic bags full of sleeping larvae

Your life was like a tv dinner
You were passable and disposable
You were the flag high atop a mountain of trash
In your final moments
No sex robots or flying cars could save you

Maybe a loving embrace
A living planet
A technicolor carousel of worlds
Great glass galaxies
Dying like babies, in their sleep, peacefully

Our greatness could fill a thimble
Our wings are carved from stone
The warming buzz of pillowy columns
Thrusting like a tornado into the sky

Will death be a release?
A sneeze that blows out a candle?

All in all it was worth the trip
But now i’m garbage
Throw me in a hole and use my guts to grow the grass