Iron Will and Oxygen

All my unused muscles
in jiggling heaps.
All my faulty feelings
disinfected in the sink.

Worn-out wisdom
and anger like a leak.
Overused voice
that barely squeaks.

Freakishly long fingernails
that can’t scratch
away the date.
Spiky split ends
and silver friends
like foreign contagions.
My memory’s busy
making bad decisions.

I’m just a bag
of contaminated parts
quietly catching dust,
but that’s what happens
when a body rusts.

“For if a priest be foul, on whom we trust,
No wonder is a common man should rust” – from the Prologue of The Canterbury Tales

11 responses to “Iron Will and Oxygen”

Hobbo

🤣🤣 Self image at its critical best!

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1. K.Hartless
  
  😗 Exactly. The breakdown is understandable. Here’s to a weekend of recuperation, friend.
  
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  1. Hobbo
    
    Hear, hear!
    
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John

This reminds me of the old Rolling Stones song – what a drag it is getting old!

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abigfatcanofworms

Oiks. Reverberating with me!

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1. K.Hartless
  
  This time of year always makes me reflect on decay, but spring brings rebirth. 💜
  
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  1. abigfatcanofworms
    
    Decay is just the mulch for the rebirth – the food, the nutritious sludge.
    
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Ron.

This geezer dug this work. Thanks.

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1. K.Hartless
  
  Thanks, Ron. You’re one groovy geezer. 😃
  
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johnlmalone

some spiky, odiferous images here: great pic to work from 🙂

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K.Hartless

Thanks, John. I love the Canterbury tales, you? Such a rich set of stories to draw inspiration from.

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