Remains -

In front of my mortal remains

In front of my obscure rottenness

As Baudelaire said it

I’m the echo of the echoes

I did not have very long bones

But fort and white they were

My skillful teeth pulverized raw meat

Loudly definite skin by feeding well in life

Long blond curly hair

My abrupt skull even preserves

Decomposed fingers with tendon vestiges

The whole life playing guitar

My flexible and rapid fingers were

Remains, I is just an idea of what I was

Remains, my degraded image