We Are the Dead Birds

Exposed carbon shell dead circuitry our ancestral coronation strewn on the floor as pillar candles burn with iconoclastic blight we soberly sedate ourselves before stepping onto slumber's sepulchral stage to act out subterranean chimeras the radiating ecstasy of being buried alive and lo, the curtains descend we are the dead birds that soar with clipped wings our cerebral silhouettes engulfed in a vulture's disease-ridden bowels floating alongside scraps of tarnished lacquer