Flipping imaginary pancakes over dirty laundry, ruminating body odors linger through the morgue, toe tags fallen on the floor blood splattered on the doors, maggots emerging from the spilled stomach contents on the counter, the eyes seem to be rolling down the table as the tongue tries to catch them, the left hand holding the brain while the right hand is trying to get away, it appears the dead have no ears, for they all think its a party in here, as hearts, livers and spleens fill a moldy bag like rotten jelly beans, for if you had a pair of lungs, this stinky air would steal your breath.

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