Finally Put to Good Use

If one finds no success in this life, there is still success of a kind

finally put to good use
                                 


I imagine I could be put to good use
Not in this life
but after it
Shorn of clothes
and earthly impediment
laid prone amidst dense flora
grasses,
ravenous spreading weeds
sprouting flower heads
there.
given up the ghost
a lazy life retired
and all its expressions of regret
gone
floated out somewhere,
perhaps a sigh in the spring breeze,
mindless, soul-less
pink skin feeding a thirsty horde
the juices of me seeping through soil
a happy organic feast
humanity lessened by degrees
yawning skull grin
(I do hope I'm smiling through all this)
eyes of liquid, caved inward
a pool of brain stuff seeding life
out through bony orbs
a burst of baby green
spreading, rooting in its pot of head
long bones at last exposed
a sexless remains
and all manner of marrow-seeking life
hollowing out even there.
oh, to feel such success!
to have begot it so!
All the children of my tissues
devoured to the last putrid drop
sustaining them in their infancy
a skull rooted in fact not fiction
fingers playing vine, not guitar
teeth cleaned daily
a total service to them.
Finally, put to good use.