Poem Number 42

You think you will have it different?

You think when life fleets

When all is gone and,

The light leaves

It will be different for you?

You think when the darkness comes,

When the body fails.

At the finish line

You think it will not be the same?


Sit on your throne

Smirk at the fools bellow.

Because your blood is honey

Because your heart is ivory

Your fingers are ebony

Your hair is silk

Your breath is fragrance



Your jade toilet

Is still a toilet.

Your feast of truffles and caviar

Is still food.

Your sparkling champagne

Is still a drink.


Your eyes will rot

Just as mine

Just as his

Just as hers,

And we shall see

Not with our rotten eyes

But we shall see.

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