This Can't Be Me
This Can’t Be Me Upon closer inspection In my mirror, I see, in the corners of my eyes, Or when I pull at my nostrils, Or open my mouth to speak, That I am a massive clump Of writhing maggots, A paper-thin skin-full. But this can’t be? This can’t be me? I walk and talk, I seem to play. And yet, When they Poke holes in me The maggots tumble out Like from road-kill On a hot summer’s day.Much of what I write seems to address mortality issues. I don't know where this came from, probably from my mind's eye??? Written January 13th, 2002 © on Jan 13 2002 02:46 PM PST, same as above 0 • 1
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"This Can’t Be Me..."