Corpse in a Coffin

A day flies by- and yet I have not known, for I'm just a fly in a spider web, strangled already with blood stolen from the fangs of a black-widow, or so it seems. I'm just someone who's dead, lying in a coffin. My calender is dust but there's so much that I've already lost track. My bones turn differently, rotting- my eye sockets stare at one wall and one wall only. And my skeleton is tickled by bugs that I wish not to know, and my body is uptight and nearly crippled with limited space. There's no sun that is gifted; no sky that's seen. I'm just a corpse in a coffin. Let me tell you- for I should know- there is no heaven and there is no hell for my soul lingers alone in this closed casket. I just wish someone who cared buried me under a garden, a rose bush or a peach tree.