Gecko

I sometimes feed a gecko
On my table – it has mysterious
Patchwork skin, perhaps even gecko leprosy
And looks like a little monster
And sometimes I love his agile feet
His scampering footwork
And at times he gets too close to comfort
When he tongues out rice grains on the table cloth
And sends a streak of electricity down
My spine; a little shiver, a little panic
Knowing yet denying
That I judge even the little gecko
By the bulbs on his grotesque skin

So am I the ugly one with the ugly heart?

Flipped out, turned inside-out…..
My inner-beauty is as hideous
As the dandruff on my shoulder
When the conscience is as amorphous
As the midnight darkness and fear fragments
The haloed-heart

And through the cracks on my irises
A little gecko brings out
What no ravishing beauty can…..

My own domiciled beast !

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