So then,
is this the aim,
to strain
away from earthly forms.
Slick sheen of birth-film shed,
Malathion purged from infestation
of frailty and doubts sensation.
Scrubbing mortal trials
from neatly paired nails.
Will they suffer inspection,
denial of a life fully lived
in all its gory glory
with a last minute,
customised spiritual enema
for the emotively constipated.
We rage against our flesh,
stripping it of passion
to stroll amongst the gentlemen,
tripping lightly, as the fashion
dictates.
There is more honesty
in the day of a May fly
than all
of this.
04
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minor edit 20.03.10
