Monday, December 21, 2015

William Tell

my shaved legs,
goosebumped from the cold,
become lost to me each day,
like my atrophied body,
hunched with worry for my world,
ages beyond my desire;

won't they leave my sagging form
Won't they?

gaunt and ghastly
I've eaten my own flesh,

can't they see I wish to die

what more is there left to be done?

a failed attempt to remain removed,


I've no bones.

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