Tuesday, October 11, 2011

All of what this horrible planet filters through me
is a desolate landscaped face
carved from a mother's disgrace.
Hand the doctor a scalpel
just start digging away at my skin.
It is temporary until the day I am laid out
between dirt and sky
and more dirt thrown on top of me.
Maggots can borrow my clothes
because I will be a moth.

No comments:

Post a Comment