I am brimming. Aípoised upon the balcony
Of women, to touch and fiddle their malicious lips
Cried down, winter meltdowns annexed
By my feet, oggling the surreptitious fantasies
Of mills upon the swollen horizon.
It blabbers dirty secrets and musthaves, agony,
St Agnes rotting in her deceased mind,
What more crave are you looking for?
Itís not enough; agility is ruptured immeasurably
As if itís springed from under the bed
With a sharp ungroomed finger.
Let me out, I cry to you, let me breathe,
Explode the sunshine, like a clerk ,
Snide creased bella donnas behind the desk.
Carved, settled, burlesque,
I am tainted, stunted, bosom-less, forgiven.