The Tattoo

Convinced there is

photo by hungrybison

nowhere to go but downtown,
bone rattled,
another snort
for warmth,
not hurting
just enabling,
the torture
of being beaten
as badly
as I was
a continent away.

Do not write upon the flesh.
The words,
no matter how sweet,
will rot away.

Instead write on fragments of paper,
have the living stuff them into your
death clenched jaw.

When the flesh is gone,
the words,
you will still speak.



Filed under original photography, original writing, outlaw poetry, poetry

2 responses to “The Tattoo

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