Wrinkles

These wrinkles that go to and fro

across my brow, and down my arms 

Aren’t experience but just time, taking a dagger, and creating harm

I know i am not alone, i don’t even own a potion 

To plump up these circles under my eyes, and put these cursed lines on a rocket

shoot them into sky, and space and beyond

They belong on the moon not engraved on my skin.

Times making me thin, making me grey, making me bald

And hey, so is everyone else, and it could be worse my memory could be shocking 

causing me shame, when i don’t remember my lovers name, or when i sign my own.

The devil and god have an evil plan 

To send us mad, they can, they have the power, to make age a shower that attacks everyone 

I might as well be a may fly, that has 2 and 4 hours to live 

And then die, floating down stream, being ripped apart by currents, my dream too, of flying forever butchered forever. 

So never, i make this promise will i grow old in my head or on my face

I see it not as experience but creating a fence cutting me off, lowering my defense

And pushing me in a corner. 

A corner of a hall, a bingo room, a nursing home, a psychiatric ward. 

This war starting from when out of the womb is a wicked happening that goes from morning to noon 

And from noon to night... again and again

The goodlooks take flight, and join the fucking angels

Cream and hair dye don’t work, and plastic surgery makes me look barbie

So instead of looking like a harpy with makeup 

I will recoil and take a pistol, when these wrinkles make a meter

And then i’ll join Demeter

And instead i dance with hades

Being young and now secure

Young and beautiful and mature inside 

I have experience, lots and lots 

But i don’t need wrinkles to show that.

What? Why do you stare? Isn’t because i am fair...

Death and beauty 

Is better than opposite, and i will be famous, for the path 

Of the deficit of looks.