Return To Sender.

 

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.

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