Five Feet Under

It’s five past seven. 

Cody couldn’t move.

He’s five feet under
thoughts, a spelling 
queen sits on top. 

He’s uptight, can’t 
spell, but he knows. 

Parapraxis, contrary
to fact, it’s business
as usual. Lies matter
only if they affect
the dearest in kind.   

Oh, dire consequence,
there is an affected 
but if I can’t hear, 
can’t touch, it’s not 
there. Cody knew it,
but it didn’t matter.

The queen overheard,
he spilled his tongue
after a humble request
from an ailed servant.

The queen, quite angry, 
buzzes around, inquest,
bosses around, request
that he spells what’s
been done, parapraxis, 
you lie and I’m gone. 

Cody was afraid, alone 
he couldn’t face death
but pressed under her,
breath would no longer
be there, Neither, either, 
as long as he hides her  
memory, spells whatever:
Desiderata! Garrulous! 

He’ll annoy her enough 
to be left alone yet
why was he afraid to
be five feet under if 
at the end she would 
always leave him alone?