Birthmark(s)

Gnawing at the corners of the sofa,
Base layers depicted in blood.
Was it enough?
Grilling body segments could be
An honest cradle to conjoin with stoic
Gazes.
Seller of gerundi, time lag unraveling
In continuous syntactic space.
Would you give me your control?
Fine lines, fine lines, fine lines…
Inter-penetration with a burka.
What if I go through? Nobody 
Would care… changing the status
Quo vadis? Wherever, the where is 
Of no importance , as long as you [
	]
They’re all feeling like they’re about to die
But they are already dead, and that’s where 
	power sits.
Why do we like to sit and who’s the argonaut who
				    invented the chair?