Scour faint ideas of beauty,
scratch away the fading imprints
once moulded onto malleable flesh
Wash away marks of value
that punctuate the sentences of dying memories,
break up and shatter the decaying form
that our moments gave birth to
Replace all that’s eroded,
with something quite plain,
with simple desires
with lust without flames
And sooner or later
you’ll start to regret
that something was better,
that feelings had depth
and all that you’ve lost
for what little you’ve gained
will soon seem a fair deal
to your hollowed out frame
Featured image by Daniel Arsham.
My latest work, No Cure for Shell Shock, is a collection of short stories and poetry. It’s available as an eBook and a paperback here.