POISON IN A PRETTY PILL


Your tactile eyes running over glossy paper, 
Printed on with tactile lies of glaze and guaze. 
That say "forget yourself, adorn with this disguise", 
This womanhood of smooth and tampered whores. 
Let me warn you of their cold sensitivity, 
They'll have you gathered in a trap of glass. 
Is your reflection all that you will recognise? 
Thjat cruel lie will stare you in the face. 
Wrappeed up in haze and flow of bridal gown, 
They tell your lover he must hold a gun. 
You're the pornographic reassurance he's a man, 
They deal with flesh, incarcerate with rags, 
Red lips, shimmer silk and body-bags, 
Hairless legs against the blistered napalm burn. 
I want to rape the substance of your downy hair, 
In that mist a guttedf child fights for air. 
Against the fragile, mashed and sweaty wound 
Your factile beauty has an outrageous sound, 
Like a glamour billboard in a battlefield. 
At least the bloody-red poppy was of nature's will, 
That flower perfecting by barbed-wire fence 
Must be insulted by your scented poor pretence 
Just as I, who finds it hard to touch you now, 
You traumitise my love with needle doubts, 
I want so gently to remove your mask. 
It's hard enough to find water here 
In this barrenness of dishonesty and fear 
Without you accepting pioson in a pretty pill. 
Your bondages of silky robes and lace 
Are the banbdages of a biullet punctured corpse, 
The layers of precious imitation worn 
Are the layers of history that suffocate the unborn.

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