Skin Poem by GRANT FRASER

Skin



The heart
wet,
shiny too,
exusable
in places,

I did
this,
admittibly
because I am
human,
and fault
or desire,
and fire,
all circle
my brow daily,

I wanted
to eat raw
meat,
beat my heart
with a naked
stick,
bleed my
indecison
out secretly
through
composed eyes,

I don't
how to cry or die,
dismount
from your
******* games,
totalitarian
campaigns,

Big Brother
can't take
his eyes
off your
sexy body!

and what
couldn't
be worse,
with all
the poisons
streaming,
and all the
fat money cats
raking it in,

as you run
or crawl towards
some difficult
horizon,
or declare
that the world
is nothing but
insane,

a blood spattered
mistake,
of barbarous old
codes, and hollywood!

and clambering
under a stone
is all there is,
where quietude
is good,
and the only truth,
is YOU,
appearing to yourself,
long before Death,

to study your
yet to become corpse,
and discolouration yellow
rotten eyelid forced,

oh! yes, poisons are waiting
in store,
just next door,
don't be shy,
everybody's already in on it,

believers, retrievers,
are already working
against you,

and freedom was never
really ever anything
but a word, badly fashioned,

it's a freaky band wagon,
of perpetrators
catching perpetrators,
another way in getting
their long appointed jobs,

just twiddle with more
knobs, and you'll eventually
see it all happen,

the hairline
crack in mankind
is stretching as we breathe,

further across
this rotten piece
of old coal,
glowing feintly
in the flesh....

yes - is a red hot thing
inside -
burning you down...

feelings that connect
to your palpitating,
lump of ventricles,

death's shrivelled up
blue testes,

filling or spilling
daily
over bed clothes
and shores of skin,
quaking..

Monday, May 4, 2015
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