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