Flamingo

The body electric; it moves about On fire from a heart that has exploded. Suspicion of me; eyes on me. I didn’t do it! I merely sat idly by while they killed themselves With drink. I have a drink, and perhaps I shall Have another, and the humanity of The world will reflect in my glassy, Blood-shot eyes. I had a last hope but I gave it up, And I am in pieces on the floor like A mismatched puzzle; you can’t put Me back together because none of My pieces fit. Whore, you dirty, exhausted mess; you are Me in the mirror. That’s me, right? In this Skin suit? In this foreign body? The air is poisoned, and I can’t recognize Anyone anymore. God has sent us plague And fear of touch. Diamond eyes, blue as the salt sea linger upon My swollen flesh. Whose eyes? Lo! They Are mine. They have always been mine! I haven’t cried for you in a decade, but here I am wearing your topaz ring, And I can barely feel it there. I am no prophet, yet I predict that I shall fail At any sort of love other than yours. I’m brave now because I took a pill, crushed It between my fingertips and allowed the Powder to travel through the cavity of which My very breath emits. My pupils are like the tips of a ballpoint pen, My brain is swimming in luscious grandeur, And it overwhelms me in a fantastic way. Which one is the real me out of these Two personas? Dry or full of the nectar I’ve just consumed? Whichever it is I am tired of me. Scars, scars everywhere; so jagged And never subjected to the fading That stitches would’ve provided them. I taped myself up like a doll that had Been torn apart. I feared to remove the Tape, lest I look upon the gaping wounds And white muscle beneath. Do not fear me. Beware.