I write poems when I get depressed and feel creative. The first happens more than the other.)
I Want The Girls With The Pretty Plastic Faces
I want the girls with the pretty plastic faces
teeth like polished poached ivory
and hair of leprechaun gold.
My flesh is fading
like a lit candle in a wind too damp and cold
But if I watch the girls with the pretty plastic faces
perhaps i can make for myself a mold
a plastic face for when my flesh gets old
and when that wind comes to fetch us our nerveless armor will doubtless hold
and we wont feel.