“You need a face lift.”
Said the surgeon, his voice planned soft.
He can’t be wrong as he is proficient
He’s well counted, for he is efficient.
“Get rid the jowl, your skin saggy;
Cut out the wrinkles, will look pretty,
Can offer you a full or mini
Will add value to your money.
Go brilliant, graze pastures new,
Get assured with youth renewed
…… ….. ….. ….. ….. …. …. …”
Falling leaves of withering autumn weather
Flakes of frozen dreams in snowing winter
Blooming herbs as if budding hopes ever
Kept lullabies for the infants born never
On your blackened lips a doting kiss that falter
Like a due trembles on the petal tender,
In the bedroom tinted with frosted despair
Half lit pub room where bass notes thunder
Fumes of crack to which vanity surrender
Torn off pages of existence lost for ever,
Where will I find my face, my face, to perform