fatigue

Fatigue 


Tired? Yes, I'm tired of two lips,
twenty fingers, & don't know
how many words. Of fragmented
grayish memories.

Worn-out of this old
modest skeleton so chaste
that when it undresses
I won't know if they're the same
bones used while living.

Drained of lacking feelers,
of not having one eye
on each shoulder blade
& an authentic cheerful tail.
Of this degenerate
hypocritical little ass.

But above all,
weary of being with myself
when the dream ends.
Me, with the same nose and legs
like I don't want to wait for the shoal
in my beach complexion,
offering the dew two magnolia breasts,
caressing earth with my caterpillar belly.