You may ask yourself who is this abominable creature with its horrendous gob threatening with a faithful bite.

Grafted on my lethargic carcass to bewilder those who pursue me with ideotic diligence.

Those enamored with the certitude of my posture, with my blank stare pointing at the horizon.

May this dramatric spectacle revive me for a moment, may it put an end to this passive tableau.

Poor venerated grand monument,
Poor masterpieces left behind in museums,
Poor recumbent effigies amassing dirt in the cemeteries of culture,
Poor stones of consequence.

You will envy she, who spends her death on vacation.