Whimsy Dirge

I hope that these words
Come to serve as my bones
To be found in the future
By someone so alone
They connect with my defects
And in some small way I am resurrected there

And if these words burn away
I hope they'll find this room
With my body still in it
A popcorn ceilinged tomb
With what's left of me and all my things
Inexplicably preserved

Hope they write lengthy papers
All about my clothes
The local bands from my t-shirts
Will be thought of as pros
Or mistaken for royalty
But in certain bars they kind of are, though

Hope they put all my things
Into an exhibition
I hope they think that Pokémon's
Some kind of religion

And they'll confuse your perfume with a part
Of some funerary rite
Since I sprayed it on your side of the bed
And laid still till I—

Sometimes wish I was important
So someone would write
About me and the things
We got up to at night
So we could look down from somewhere
And yell "Hey, that was just one time!"

And I hope your old camera's
Found somewhere someday
And those pictures of you
I look at every day
Are all placed into textbooks
Telling kids we used to be this way

Immeasurably more beautiful
Than anyone living today
And their world will be better
From just having known your face