Worms wriggling underground, women burning bras
broken candelabras
& me:
burning candles at both ends,
flaming youth going up in smoke
piped music calmly tiptoes into my room,
clouds drift by my window momentarily taking on human forms,
heavy uniformed officials march up & down,
choking on cigarettes & all the lies they are taught to believe in.
. . . . .
Blow Up
Fashion photographer
flirting with the absurd, centrefolds that have to be seen & not heard,
the early worm gets the bird.
Models a la mode
modern living grinding them down, from a diamond to a piece of rock
a shell within a shell
take her body away & she’ll wither.
. . . . .
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