Sunday, November 8, 2015

"the adult" a poem

The Adult


How dare anyone speak badly of you

Least of all if it is true

I filter every blow with my flesh

Nothing reaches your ear that hasn't drilled through me


My simplicity is deeper than your lies

I'm cut to the marrow while you smear your rouge.

Nothing befalls you, silly child

That I haven't felt fuller, deeper,

Pinched and stitched into my nerves

You know nothing

But my experience

Watered down

Chilled and easy

For infant consumption.


-- R 88s Я --

Perfection Is Easy



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