Reckless Head
-- Ted Hughes 
When it comes down to it
Hair is afraid. Words from within are afraid. 
They sheer off, like a garment,
Cool, treacherous, no part of you. 
Hands the same, feet, and all blood
Till nothing is left. Nothing stays 
But what your gaze can carry.
And maybe you vomit even that, like a too-much poison. 
Then it is
That the brave hunger of your skull 
Supplants you. It stands where you stood
And shouts, with a voice you can't hear, 
For what you can't take.

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