Monday 23 May 2011 photo 1/1
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So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.
I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby
That melts to a shriek. I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.
Ash, ash —-You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there——
A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.
Herr God, Herr Lucifer
BewareBeware.
Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.
(Bild Van Gogh, Text bit ur Lady Lazarus av Sylvia Plath.)
Annons