Drops

My body is a stone,
still waiting for a sculptor and his chisel.
An undiscovered land,
no claims and no one owner.
Clear as a crystal,
to hell with being pure.
It feels like being crippled,
like a hunchback.
For just one drop of you,
I'd give up my right arm and my hearing.
Time is running out,
the clock is ticking fast.
Beat it, beat it.
Aging is a spider,
I'm caught up in his web.
Break it, break it.
A veil hides my face,
my chest is ringed with flowers.
Looking younger,
the scent of fragrant oils,
sneaks well past your defenses.
Goodbye wrinkles.