segunda-feira, 4 de janeiro de 2016

rigor mortis

a cask full of vacuum
and a water bear
dehydrating and dancing.
some dirty water and
it will revive [like a flower
or love]

a body that falls inside
will carry delusion
and nothing else.
vultures will write
poems of hope
while nibbling
your corpse.
you’ll cover
your head
and wait.
it will rain, eventually.
and you’ll never know
if it was the cold
or the idea of a
retired ballerina
kissing you
for the first time
again [the wet lips
like a melted bottle
of cheap whiskey]

you fall in love again;
the overflowing
emptiness crossing
the awkwardness
of your distempered 
skin [science told us
dead bodies can
still get goose

for different reasons] 

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