I didn't think he'd look so dead. I didn't think I'd be looking at him. This is the most crowded funeral I've ever been to, excluding the ones in my backyard, excluding them, excluding myself. Exclusion. I can smell everyone's perfumes and I can smell their mental disorders, too. They stink, they are repugnant, they exclude. I didn't think I'd be so dead.
Stop crying. Stop crying. Stop. You aren't excluded. He's gone, he can't smell your perfumes, excluding himself, excluding death. This is my backyard, we are children and he was our dog. His nose is wet, not with blood, not with life. A dog with a mental disorder in its mouth. Dropping the dead thing at my feet, wagging its tail. Good boy. They stink, huh? Yes they do. Yes they do. Let's exclude them. Dead things wagging their tails, stinking.
I don't want to look at him or them or me anymore. I can't stop looking at me, everyone is mirrored, everything is a dead mirror. I didn't think I'd look at me. Everything hurts, excluding my eyes, excluding them, I can't see him. I can't see myself. I can only see a mirror and another mirror and another mirror. A mirror with me in its mouth. I am bloody and I am good.
They've left me alone with him.
He can smell me and I can smell him, he finds me repugnant. His face is contorting and the death is falling off of him. He sits up and reaches for my nose. I can't see. I can feel. I can smell. I can't see, his fingers are meeting with my brains, they are making a deal, they are friendly and they like each other. I can't feel, it hurts. I think about ashes and dust and I can't think anymore. They're all gone, they are in his mouth, they are my nerve endings. I will bury him and them and me.
I didn't think I'd look like him. I am under my backyard, I am under my childhood, I am under my tears and I am my dead dog.
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