Friday, 25 July 2008

The new optician

No, whatever you sold me honey was a shitty thing,
A shitty and broken thing,
With eyes that sting and capacious holes that sing
the very message of the lines and shadows
that promised never to cling

A spectacular face, and wrinkle free,
How glass could choose to be
If it were chosen to live on me

You, woman, sold as seen, these myopic frames;
And me, a bold has-been, blind to the game,
Broken and shitty, all the same.


Bryan said...

I commend your excellent use of the word "shitty"!

Paul Bernard said...

Thanks Bryan.
Can you see the pic alright on your machine?
I liked the abstract shot, but I worry that it may not be clear enough to make the outline out on some screens (not that it's supposed to be too clear...)