Daily Whitman

inmate1

Faces

 3
  Features of my equals would you trick me with your creas'd and
      cadaverous march?
  Well, you cannot trick me.

  I see your rounded never-erased flow,
  I see 'neath the rims of your haggard and mean disguises.

  Splay and twist as you like, poke with the tangling fores of fishes or rats,
  You'll be unmuzzled, you certainly will.

  I saw the face of the most smear'd and slobbering idiot they had at
      the asylum,
  And I knew for my consolation what they knew not,
  I knew of the agents that emptied and broke my brother,
  The same wait to clear the rubbish from the fallen tenement,
  And I shall look again in a score or two of ages,
  And I shall meet the real landlord perfect and unharm'd, every inch
      as good as myself.

 

Posted on 17/07/2015, in literature, poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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