Okay, Ed. I wrote something. You can call it a poem if you want. I don’t care.
Hey
I
don’t kid myself
i am therefore i
reconstruct
and fill in but
being lost has lost its
STOP
these are not our thoughts until now
my is no longer connected to the i
which begs the question, were they ever?
a) i am
B)ut let’s take stock, you
fingers crossed thoughtzis( ,
i been thinkin …
i can see my hands very well from here..
nails manicured by indented tooth
i’d wager they look better than yours
-flashy supple tricky-
when i take these fingers out and slap them
around and about on the top of my head
i think what is this aching drum thing
Sounding forcefully equal open and closed echo
solid skull in mind..?
the stretched skin is just right and pounding while you can
ba bu ba bu buh ba
availed cheeks open and close the mouth, mozart dimpling
pretty good! that lends something to the slapping the dead skin off
but
what i really want is to deliver a right cross smack on my jaw!
if i grab this throat (i’ve found) with my left hand and squeeze all around my esophagus
my right hand instinctively grasps my knee as if my leg should keep me upright throughout this investigation
by what right???
the slapping, i think it was the slapping, that has caused this headache
if causation is still a thing, or ever was, let’s remember how it felt
because i shook off the initial impact.
the considered opinion is to slap harder
but i was caught by a still head of hair and
caressed it with my fingers down over my neck
tho the neck has grown bonier than i remember it in the good times
who remembers the good times? well
i remember thinking about them
if that’s the same
let’s continue down, my lesion
peels itself off as i finger these pectorals
steady as spaghetti and the rash
turns to scaly geezer dust at least
tastier than oregano, ha i joke
things could get ugly
while spraying in all the directions necessary
to arc things true only once if you use your wish wisely
Hey
I
got legs shaky but nervous = dangerous akimbo
a sleight and afoot until it’s time
to get up and work, let’s say, the legs that hold it all together
therererererererere
because things die out so nothing is remembered
that’s why fucks are so misbegotten
if you need my i.d. i’m a legitimate source to tell you because i’m as lost as y’all
that could have been my last breath
before sense grabbed me and made me inhale
sure, i’m a phony dead person, the kind that can still type
the kind that probably has several more years of pretense
who can predict?
knowing kills living sense remarking giving, oh, if only things were so easily meaning i could reach you now and grasp a hand
we might cuddle up in a who can tell
these days are over they show in my feet
if i could manage to kick my head i would
i won’t kid you, i’ve tried
not recently but when i was younger
i can knee myself right fine
do so on an irregular indication
things are coming to a head so to have spoken
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