A sick parasite

The tawny, shrivelled skin,
the stripes of smiling wrinkles,
the sea of painful drops unshed,
settled cozily in your eyes,
the lustrous hair now
all grey, dusty, tangled.
The expressionless visage like
a dead night with no stars visible.
This is what it comes to be.
This is what it will come down to.


The dried , sucked , finished breasts,
The thighs all shaky and unshapely,
the ponch hanging loose
like the deflated balloon,
Crow feet, leech like
pushing in the dirt more,
the tatters that were
your most favourite attire.
This is what it comes to be.
This is what it will come down to.

Can't we ever find a way to escape?
-the disastrous ,deadly, damaging
old age
- feeding,
thriving,
 on us like
a sick parasite....