I am so bored of flowers,
I dream in wounds
Root-deep,
And I am bored of trees
Stretching to heaven
They'll never reach,
I want to see the rot within
The scrambling insects
gnawing on the insides,
I want to taste the pollution
The city's poison
To distill, bottle and sell
as humanity for consumption
I want to scrape off the makeup
Turn the flesh inside out
And lick the rot,
Flowers will then be beautiful.
28th July 2007
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem