Not every remedy is kindly meant,
and what is built to cure can wound instead.
I am the accidental revenant
since, after death, not all of us are dead.
The stiffness in my limbs is pain enough
without the throbbing chaos in my head.
My soul is dislocated, and it’s tough
to shop for analgesics when you are dead.
Who hasn’t wished that they could have more time?
That primal yearning passion to exist.
It’s tempting to outstay the final chimes
without a backward glance, but not like this.
No paracetamol will numb the ache
of being half asleep and half awake.
|The characters for Jiang Shi mean 'stiff corpse'|