A silly little poem for a lovely Friday afternoon...
Predetermined plasticity hard-wired
into the genetic code of my merry-
making, mistake-ridden, calcium-covered bones.
Complex carbohydrates erupt into the
bubbles of my free-diving glass,
too much molecularity winding
its way into my blue-blooded veins.
His benzene ring orbs of prussian blue
do not belong to the complex
complexity of my organic chemistry.
Viral, virulent, virility massaging my
chromosomal ego. And we all go:
cineres sont cineres sans cineres again.