Читать книгу Fungus. A Heap of Poems - Parvez Kumar - Страница 5

We’re cursed to think about death,

To count the time that’s left.

My brain will stink,

I use to think.

My stuff for lust

Will smell the worst.

My putrid smell

Will scare like hell.

My tongue, my lips,

My arms, my hips

Will feed the worms,

Underground confirms.

Or fire will burn

I dearly earn:

My flesh, my blood,

My hair, my head.

It’ll burn my fat

Like fuel, like gas.

My va-va-voom5

Will see its doom.

I’m cursed to think.

You’re cursed to think.

Parvez Kumar