Poetry & Prose


Shave hair off pale skin
Treat with MadaCide
Wipe down every inch
Free of germs and filth

Body turned a canvas
Saved for relics from dreams
Too flimsy to be kept
Against floods of earthly woes

I feel the needle’s pinch
Tracing down my ribs
Trade for blooming aches
Purity eternally inked

That I could almost trust
All pain safe and clean
Briefly blissful even
In a world of hurtful things