August 30, 2009

Dejected Corpse

A body lays on the side of highway 131, which stretches from Northern Michigan to the Indiana Toll Road. Already three days past its last breath, maggots and flies feast on the punctured rib cage, broken by the force of a warped society. Such a quick ending it had been, but without the body the bugs would've had to eat leaves for dinner.

The Catholic school uniform with horrid pinstripe socks have been worn for the last time, bloodied and fraying at the edges already. The victim of a cerial killer, Michigan's temperament, and human carelessness all at the same time. Evergreens wilt, and after the last rain fall, the skeleton is half-submerged in mud. Pine needles decorate its grave. Its bony knees drag down centimeter by centimeter, back to whence it came.

The color of freshly revealed bone is not white, but ivory like freshly-grown wheat, with skin of beet sugar and hair of corn fields. With the stench of sulfur mines and blood of rusted automobile parts. Seconds after death, it expelled its last remains in a small puddle that mixed with mud and cigarette butts. The shit of the country.

And still no one comes looking for the bones that had once been a person. The crapheap that had once been a home. The state that had once been respected.

The only ones who are thankful are the maggots and the flies.


  1. Wow. Excellent writing style. Can't wait to read more.

  2. Thanks!

    One of the most passionate of my works, not that I don't put "feeling" into the others. This one is just VERY strong.