That Beard Comes Right Off

Smoking roll-ups made of
dictionary papers,
making sure to pick out
all my favourite words
from the pages, In a locked
confession box
naked,
besides some
black suit socks,
that aren’t without
some holes
in the heels and big toes.

Faking mortal sins
just to feel
like I’ve lived
whilst all mine are princess pink,
buttercup and baby blue,
and soft as the flesh
just below
your lower
eyelid.

Advertisements

2 comments

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s