Science says that when you die,
the last sense to go is your hearing.
Imagine that.
Collapsing in the street, helpless,
and after the death rattle,
you hear a bystander calling out,
Oh, fucking hell.
He’s dead.
He’s dead.
He’s dead.
Imagine that.
It’s enough to keep you awake at night.
Nominated for the Best of the Net Award · Featured in Caffeine
Read another poem