deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Bone Core

She had the palest blue lips,
Like the victim of a drowning.
I kept her in jars tied around my waist mostly.
“Samples of my chromosomes, you see!
The meaty parts of them, where the smooth turns of their skeletons collide!”

Sunlight bore across her Christlike back.
She glowed like thermonuclear honey and the velvety skin of off-world aquatic life.

Why am I in this state.
It is a dirty opera,
A beating.

My self is weeping for synthetic concubines and spectral night watchers.
My self is slipping on the rubber suit of time traveling and poisoned tea.
Floorboard walkers of statues and acid and embryonic stem fields -
“You have bruised your feet against my primordial teeth!”
 
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