ULTIMUS CENSOR
Your breasts squint tormented into space,
Your shrunken vagina misses occasional fillings,
The futility of your existence atomizes your soul.
The mirror's reflection makes you horror-stricken,
Flesh appearing inanimate reminds of death.
Your man left you shamelessly,
Gave another woman preference over you,
Who bewitched him with cheap lures.
Your wept-out eyes hurt,
Narcotics soak your spirit with dullness,
Imminent collapse giggles expectantly.
A pack of woodchucks whistles the tinnitus.
Your end is near.
One reach. Well hundred pills at once.
The end.
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