Return To Sender.
Updated on January 21, 2012
Return To Sender.
© -MFB III
Like a comma curled
around a commode,
his last exclamation
muffled by vomit,
his face flushed
from a lack of oxegen,
hips swiveling
desperately to get
his drug numbed
legs beneath him,
as he performed
his final dance of death
for the porcelain God,
while his love
lay sleeping
just outside
in the other room.
Did he walk t
he halls of Graceland
as a spirit in remorse,
when he left this earthly plane,
all his wonders and achievments
just physical trophies on walls,
he could no longer touch.
He was simply
taking care of business,
when he died in the
most mortal of ways,
Struck down by
the escape he sought,
in pills, thrills
and prescription filled,
he was set free
from the pain
of being the king.
His crown now
a headstone,
a jail house rock
in a quiet corner
of a garden,
in the prison
where he languished
as the world's
most wanted man.