they used to fear
that having
your photograph taken
would steal your soul
we take selfies
send them
to whatever demons
will still take our call
in an effort
to forge new deals
for the same
bit of fluff

dead eyes
with pursed lips
staring at a point
somewhere just northsouth
of vapid
just to the left
of meaningful
left to deteriorate
pixel by pixel
into the aether
of another rancid pool
of stagnant

take my photo
take my soul
take my heart
take my body

for all the worthless
ligamental failings
torn rotator cup of wine
turned to vinegar
coppery scented eyelids
into a semblance
of yesterday’s pin-up
waxed bleached
prim and improper
hoping the devil
takes my soul
leaves me enough
spare change
for a cup of coffee

9 thoughts on “photo

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