Propped against a locked door,
Are Inhabitant’s revealing discards.
Bled and bagged,
The silence of the dead,
Material with no purpose.
A grim portrayal of Inhabitant,
Shadowy shallowly indirect,
A stalker’s priceless nuggets.
Dear Inhabitant,
Do you know what you show?
Your wastes, tastes, distastes.
Your nutrition, addiction, predilection.
Your private life and its secret strife.
Body made public.
Propped against a locked door,
Bled and bagged,
Are Inhabitant’s revealing discards.
No comments:
Post a Comment