Mortis Operandi

Pallor mortis.
My skin turns pink with poison
Then pale
Motionless, I lie there
Waiting to be taken away.

Algor mortis.
The wind whips at my body
As people step around me
Surveying the landscape
Mountains of cold flesh
Spread across the ground.

Rigor mortis.
My muscles flex
And hold me in my place
I am stuck here
Until I can relax again.

Livor mortis.
My veins run dry
As the blood pools by my stomach
Wanting to cling to the earth
But I am destined to leave it behind.