Morbid, Part 3: Corpse

Not to be outdone and seizing an opportunity to use my powers of melodrama, I composed my very own piece of literary morbidity:

My rotting fingers clench the world
With a hateful vengeance.
I throw my shredded mess of face toward
The beautiful masses.
I scream silent rasping threats to the crisp and stark businessmen...

One young man stops, stares
And spits.

My arms lie broken and shattered at the foot
Of prosperity.

(in loving memory of Steve and Kinsey)

After which Steve kindly wrote, "Jesse is a freak." Mission accomplished.