We were promised by youth 

To revel in comfort, in family and in resource 

It was the tributary of our heritage,

form and function 

 

Father was a pillar for the overjoyed 

But Father Time came for us 

 

Mother had weaned us from disaffection 

But Mother Nature still holds its bearings 

 

And this rancorous uterus 

Slowly consumed  the skin and memory 

 

It elicits, But not without consequence 

 

I have rekindled in form, 

But the seed of ‘89 would be my last. 

 

Like the dofleini, 

That womb that housed you 

Eats at me in lurid shame 

 

This body you know, 

Has been constructed by its own destruction. 

It is flesh for moths. 

 

And our youth, 

So promising with evidence, 

Now too, flesh for moths. 

 

Sarcoma allows me one last smile. 

While form and function contort 

to a minor crowd. 

 

As fraction within fractions 

Of ravaged muscle and tissue give in, 

The reticent RED narrates 

With hardly and resistance 

 

These untreatable layers of skin and yearning 

Grow heavier towards the end 

 

Form consumes function, 

Consuming form 

 

One last look at you my love.......

 

Goodbye.