Death by Bearded Clam

A vagina
is flying in the sky.
The muff
eclipses the sun
and swoops down
after me.

Before the pussy lips
swallow me,
a waterfall
of menstral blood
is used to marinate my dirty skin
and rotting organs.

The lips open
and swallow me
whole.

In total darkness,
in my tomb,
in the womb,
this is not always
how I pictured dying,
but this death feels
pleasurable,
exceptionally better
than getting ran over
by a drunk.