dead-icated

Heaven is all around us but we are like turnips encrusted in dirt.

In-fat-uated, swollen fat with our melodramas
like ticks who are drinking their own life's blood.

Way too busy looking at ourselves in the mirror
rather than noticing the mirror and what hand holds it.

So dead-icated!

Let the dead bury the dead.

Let us be resurrected now!