I think its best to impress upon

you that I jest when I express

my intimate emotional vomit

that blooms from fingertips and splits

the lips of every drinker every thinking man

is waiting for relief from springs that

never cease to ease the pains of

taking leave of every brain

and making time for taking time to

explain the way I make this page my bitch

and splay and rearrange my twitching

insides in step with this false hope that I’ll

be someone if being someone means becoming some

thing better than the better man than me

those who scrawl for their daily feed

when I’m a bitter walking paid to bleed and be

in need of government cheese and

ghetto tacos

no need to remind me

I’m at ease with this lease on life

where I am given time to write

and nothing better than the hope

that one day these automatic hands will elope

to craft a crooked masterpiece

to give me pleasure and please

to never cease



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