My Mouth is an Old Useless Tunnel

My mouth is an old useless tunnel
In which the abandoned corroded railway tracks go in
But don’t come out.
You are the light at the end
Of my mouth.

My face is brittle like a mummy’s
When I try to take it off like a tedious mask
It falls into thousand pieces
On the floor.

Let me remove my hands from my elbows
And offer them to you in a dish full of oranges
And grapes.

I want to make a garland of my ten heads
Interwoven with sliced watermelons and pumpkins
For your neck.

Allow me to take out
The funeral procession of my brown eyes
And bury them
On your nipples.
I will wait for marigolds
To burst forth on their graves.