He is stripped of skin like the broken mandolin in the corner.
Ours is a world of labyrinths and sunless corners,
where bone-men rule. I am one of the few with flesh.
In a simple operation I can sluice myself of the burden
to join the grey faces and become one with death.
He wishes for lips to join with mine, I hollows to sink into.
Eternity meets at the cleft of chins.