and i’m the one inside
dusty with decay of my own doing
a rotting symbol of something
that once was great, or at least
felt he was, and felt
that others felt so too,
and that they followed suit

naked, devoid of all light, eyes
crusted shut for centuries,
barely breathing hot dry air
(like someone shoved a blow dryer
down your throat, deep into
your lungs), mouth tasting
of pennies, body smelling like
leaves, but the heart—however
gruesome-slow—never stopped!

                        …not completely

and when the scholars who make
no dollars finally found the tomb,
discovered the crypt, they were
careful to crack open the coffin
cautiously, ambivalent to if
they should even do so, only
to reveal—oh, my!—it was
empty the whole time.