Cork of flesh
Holding back from within,
It wallows and rises
(The odor of guilt)
Reminding too strongly
As a flame and a flame
Engulf the cork,
The cork of flesh.
Decaying away;
And it seethes and
I loathe and it feels
As I move
Like a separate mass.

It is not I,
But it is mine:
This cork of flesh –
My cork of flesh.

Scheming minds,
Seeming ties
Only for your cork of flesh:
For false comfort
Which will last
A short time;
Not for you,
Or for another.
Why not be humbled?
Be so wise
All your lives
For another life.

It is not I,
But it is mine.
No cork of flesh;
Your cork of flesh!

For your comfort in the future
Now’s the time
To use your cork of flesh
For another, before the
Flame and the flame
Engulf the cork!
The cork of flesh!
Bottling the you:
Decaying away;
And it seethes and
I loathe and it feels
As I move
Like a separate mass!

It is not I –
But it is mine.
This cork of flesh:
My cork of flesh.
The corks of flesh
In which we hide . . .