My thoughts
Seed, sprout

If not in life, real
I’ve shed excesses
Of conditioned responses

Partaking from well, limpid
My emoting whittles, sidelined
By gutsy honesty

Loss of face
Matters little
I am no samurai

Life helped wax
Unnaturally, time
To allow liposuction

Leeches suck, vultures
Scavenge strictly by invitation
Purging to the bones

Light in thought
Soaring spirit croons
No more…

painting is by Frida Kahlo


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