Medium: Poetry
Bodyflesh on a metal frame.
Through the beige blown tumescence
I dream of perfect silicone globes
extending into the distance like a hemisphere.
Rubber legs that sprout from someone else splayed
halfway across the room.
The smell of machinating bodies
bleached into oblivion, a marbleised lab
-top over skin.
Too pliant, too soft, too malleable.
I want to be hard shiny plastic
covering a molten metal core.
It will spill from my mouth, from between my legs,
over the raw tissues on the dragging latex.
To corrode
through the bodyflesh and greet the metal frame.
There will be none of me here.
