Vernacular Spectacular

Tear me open: rip the skin from the fascia from the muscle from my bones,
decipher the trail of my veins, as you peel away my bruises,
look into these eyes that no longer see
examine these lungs that no longer breath
listen to these old bones creak, heavy with the whispered burdens of 87 years
look at these old hands, creased, calloused with the labours of a life unfulfilled
feel the wrinkles of these chapped lips, hiding secrets never spoken,
study the larynx of this dry throat, stifling mundane words like afraid, hold, and love
ask me about apnea, and I’ll tell you what catches my breath
ask me about tachycardia, and I’ll tell you what makes my heart race
discover what makes it tick, and I’ll tell you what made it stop.
eventually, everywhere, everybody dies.
why should I fear death? There’s far more to fear in living.