Apoxy

There is a cavalry of pimples
that perimeter a face
ready, every moment, to charge.

Running toward me, cheeks
flaking white dry from cold
a lip’s fever blister
spurts small satellites.

Sidled in the front seat, i can
run my hand back that hair,
head with it’s huge hump bump
by the neck.

Tiny white pustules

Greasy bald spot

Stringy vomit on the floor

Is this ugliness i have loved?
Oh, ugliness, oh how.