10/26/2013

I spin so ceaselessly II

I'm Mona-Lisa
see my smile
as the alarm clocks blue light
throws my thick black shadow
upon the wall.

Can this dead black sea
of desire and despair
be revived by a phallus?

...

I will bed myself unwashed
to keep the smell.
Intensly lonely, sick
and getting old.

1 Kommentar:

  1. Sorry dude, but:
    you nailed it!
    I love this poem! It's a little nasty, peotic, picturesque, ironic and not cliché at all. :)

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