84.

mechanical like oil slicking through my veins
copper with plastic insulation
and I cannot get comfortable
talcum powdered joints creak heavy
tell my arms to move
but they do not

and swarms of manic bees thrill in a glasswork skull
lightning imagery and gunshot pictures
punching holes into my metal brain
I cannot feel them
I cannot feel anything

a thumping heart beats faster
without consequence

pluck my strings and wait for music to come out
and you will wait until you die
you look at me with water in your eyes
mine are leaking something more like tar
and I can feel maggots in my lungs

for all the perfumes and exotic oils in which I bathe myself
for all the waxen lipstick and black rouge
for all the smiles painted on
there is nothing underneath
except the stink of rot
and old age