PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I. Impression



I awaken with a sudden need for air.  



A sac sheeths my skin and slips  

to its sludgy substance while limbs  

spread to burst it. A mishmash  

of glue and blood streams out into  

puddles; plenty adheres to me,  

attracting a strew of folkways.  



The glutinous skin sheds over  

a pavement of carved communal  

expectation and liquifies into  

sputters of disapproving onlookers  

with salt-shakers in their belts.  



A mosquito bites me in the scalp,  

so I scratch it; the spot depresses  

like a plush doll and leaks a fluid  

that glaciates into unclaimed sculpts.





II. Recipe



Take a cauldron,  

fill it  

with 10 liters of glue  

that are spellbound  

with spices,  

     (ones that allure tradition)  

drop a mortal into it,  

     (they will always think  

     it's a hot tub  

     and will laugh at others  

     who refuse to succumb  

     to the witchery)  

light the fire,  

make the brew boil,  

and watch the mortal's innovations  

evaporate into the air  

     (the smell will lure  

     his clones).