In the Arms of Flowers

I have a pen, she said

But it's broke, it's bereft

Without its hand I don't understand

I don't understand

I'm given in to the deluge of age

Shit off a shovel and shit by the spade

Where does the colour go

When the flowers grow old?

In my darkest hour

I lie down in the arms of these flowers

The grass is so soft like hair

In our crumpled skirts we sit there

Wet and licking the quivering air

The voluptuous air

I'm given in to the deluge of age

Shit off a shovel and shit by the spade

Where does the colour go

When the flowers grow old?

In my darkest hour

I lie down in the arms of these flowers

Herein pornography

Two tear inevitably

A butterfly so delicately

On her wet lips slips

And she sucks it in

And she sucks it in

I'm given in to the deluge of age

Shit off a shovel and shit by the spade

Where does the colour go

When the flowers grow old?

In my darkest hour

I lie down in the arms of these flowers