Poezja

A lesser person walks
in the dead man's street
to meet his metastasized
oncocytes to,

kill for the sake of kill,
death for a song that was
not there.

And you will keep wearing
the explosive vest
which will not go off.

Luteum. The color of
spring spreads. No prolactin.
Milk has dried up,
and so the tears in the eyes.