I see myself in the reflection
of your coffin. You wear
your best suit, your hair
stays fresh from the embalming.
This is not what I want.
I don't need the fancy suit,
the golden trim coffin.
Just let me rest.
I've yet to sleep in so many years
and a suit?
I'm not much of a business man.
Bury me in an NBA jersey
with 1,000,000 fake dollars
and a photograph of a lamborghini.
In fact, why don't you bury me
in Hawaii? With women bound.
Drape me in gold!
Remind me of my failures
as I rot with the dirt and worms.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem