Me BONES! Me chalk stick clatter jockey, me hard, me dry, the air whuff thru me and moon shine thru my eyes.
Hang thy meat upon my racks. I’ll shed thee soon enough. I’ll climb from my bed of the cosy worm and shroom, and rattle thru empty streets, past brittle choirs of houses’ BONES!
Here cometh another, she of wider hip. Always we grin. Our faces hide not wicked hearts, because hearts we don’t got. Join thy dicing hand to mine, let us domino thru alleyways of moon light, crickets’ cry, cat’s hiss.
Me BONES! I, the mature form, the imago, of species homo.
Larval stage: a painful phase. Frame hung with useless dewlap, lip, pudenda, liquid blobs that register the pain, hearts that shatter, lungs that gasp, dingles that throb.
GROW UP, Meat Forms! Muscles last a century at best. Flesh frail, hearts shiver and cease, dangles dry up, limbs tremble and lie still.
The flesh is for but a moment.
But BONES are forever!