a man lay paralyzed on a lab table
unzipped from head to lower back
i look inside
his brain is a modem
old, out of date with a chip update
his spine is a cluster of broken wires
weaving inside of a fried caseing
no surge
shut down
his heart is a can of pop
once pumping carbonation into flat blood
his lungs a black smoke screen
cloged with tar limiting filtration
a mess
his mess
his stomach is a piece of swiss cheese
riddled with ulsers, constantly leaking
his soul is a burnt out lightbulb
fried filiment colored red and black
no spark
no life
i zip the man up so i can't see
so im blinded to whats inside of me
my future
my past
my mess
my death
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is gripping stuff, Jeph. The ending a surprise, but perfect.