This edifice is a testament to the

slowing of ticking that my head eschews

and everything in this damned room is eskew

just enough to start thinking the heat is in bloom

and I’m window dressing to my obsessions

just a tacked on name tag to my creations

and there splendid narration


no father no room for another

I cast out my brother and left my heart

locked from anyone else to come in

I spit on the grave of those who made me insane

if they would only comply with my wishes and

kindly die today

so I’m a broken fiend a blister on the heel of my

own devastation

I’m a retort to the asking of awkward questions

and the denial of all that is real

I’m my own incrimination

sadly unworthy of prosecution


Head me when I say that all that I’ve seen in my day

is enough to shatter the soul of anyone else

I’m cracked in the head and the lungs and the back

from all that I’ve taken in

anyone should be taken aback

by the grin on my face it’s enough

to be sated by simple things

I’m a wearer of garb

when I call it way of being

a way to be seen and a way of seeing


(x-ray containing an image of  my kyphosis, taken two months ago)


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