Insecticide #28

Sulphuric acid, in context,
creates a meme of intelligent art,
and in my wailing and my waning and my waxing heart,
I strip myself bare like Frank.

Only mine is a more corrupted gesture.

what will we do now, with this irreconcilable rift?

It is not in chains,
my heart,
not chained to a lover.

I am free,
but feeding
off her love’s givings.

Now the tree is bare,
like my wound,
sap extracted,
and withered,
and dead.

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