Infirmary

INFIRMARY

in this world of intricate

live the insects delicate

creepers crawling, speakers drawling

print him off a duplicate

and he'll stick it on a pole

stuff it deep inside the hole

gaping vaster, scraping faster

eating into his control

curves and lights and soft delights

still, this boy, he claims the right

photos faking at a world he thinks
he chews and tastes and bites

in a queer morass of memory

he wanders ever aimlessly

skin a'prickling, hearts a'pickling

locked in his infirmary

he's quaintly unaware

of the way we tear our hair

grasping nothing, raspy blushing

he goes on without a care

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