The pit of festering memories

[FrenchToast]

Mucus membrane 
wrapped in cellophane.
Eyeballs spread around like marbles.
Piles of dismembered arms and legs: 
tinker toys left out in the rain.

Jars of teeth, 
the rotten little things; 
no longer will be crushed into dreams.
A play pit, twenty feet down below, 
full of broken toys and (you might want to add a word here) memories.

The sillhouette of a dump truck pours sprawling bodies inside 
and then hastily drives away.
Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth fairy all dress in black today
but nothing can be said to console this mound of earth, so be quiet -- the children are sleeping.

-Tis a dark poem, indeed. I subtracted some things and added in a bit to show what I would change. I think a few breaks can be made where there are none so I moved some lines where I think that would be appropriate. Cheers!