Clammy And Spent, Death Has Climbed Off Me Poem by James McLain

So many dead bodies have climbed up
on and down off me
where my head rests it is wet there
and clammy.

The smell of it
when plunging deep into sleep
feeling by the depth I can taste
what I see
as it appeared in my dream.

The \./ I can see, it can not see me
other's rested here
in death is a dream a dream few have
shared.

Low in may lay and while humid it's hot
I can't catch my breath
while the red chili hot peppers
down my neck they have traveled.

Dead not in death though through the
living there not
as one after another they climb up
and get off.