Living in split Patterns
Here
you exist
in
fragments,
barking
like puppies
that
refuse to grow.
Never
to become a dog
in
human form,
and
straight patterns thrive
through
heaving breasts
and
moving watery lips,
and
you stare without eyes
it
is your passion,
without
arousal
a
satisfaction without want.
In
desire without a purpose
you
comprehend a cosmos,
in
stinking well,
coming
out shabbily
without
nakedness …
a
travesty of truth,
you
know how you exist.
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