A pocketful of miraclesAs winter turned to springAnd the trees started blooming,There was a peculiar
A pocketful of miraclesAs winter turned to springAnd the trees started blooming,There was a peculiar kickIn my abdomen.Out of curiosity, I took a scalpelAnd - expecting butterflies - Cut through the layersOf my shell.Look! You’ll recoil.Countless bodies, Swarming, Worming their wayThrough the labyrinthOf intestines,Chewing on soil. I am rotting alive.Love set its pure eggs in meLike a giant fly,Shiny in the shy sun.The 14th century would be proud.For I am a rotten woman.Still disintegrating,Willingly admittingTo my dirt and guilt. The guilt of mankindOr at least womankind,Though there is none to be found,I’ll confess to every sin attributedAnd decay in plain sightTo please the crowd.So kiss my lipsWhile they’re warm.Take what’s left of this body,I shan’t need it anymore.Inside-out I am a spongeSwallowing your wordsFilling my every pore with youTo complete fullnessAnd then some moreUntil I’m nauseousAnd choke on their beauty As I vomit these liesUpon the slightest touch. -- source link
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