Montag, 9. April 2012

anything im not (yet)

brittle bones and aching knees
bruised buccal and swollen feet
vanished teeth and
stutter
but still the mutter

wrinkled cheeks want no face life
deeper complexion and fairer skin
on which there are moles
on which there are creases

freckles for the youth
muddle for the aged
slim not bony she's wrapped in sheets
embodied
coffined
papery thin by collagen drain
could it be
collapsing lips

dropy breasts and stinky miss
who wants it indeed
age and time steal it
pasteurized past beauty
balding
is the heart
balding is
my memory

i can't imagine how painful it might be
is it soft and subtly sour
or is it sharp and bitter and blunt
so badly i'd rather have is
castrated
being fragmented for fear for aging

toast for death
human ps/cycles

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