graveyard jive

six feet under is pretty far, but at least i'm not alone.
flesh and bone scrape and moan,
but it's all the same when the lids nailed shut.

dance on my grave if you want, but you're dancing by yourself.
i'll drink to your health, as you drank to mine with poisoned wine.

when the roots and the worms are the only ones who want you,
when the sky is gone and replaced by splinters in the dark,
and your shallow breaths claw their unwilling way out of punctured lungs,
maybe then you'll see.

dead or alive, it doesn't matter to me.
so what will it be?