my self-prescribed sanctuaries;
my predictable imagination;
my feral, hypothetical people;
my thought as a currency;
my scrapbook as a mockumentary;
my fan letter to the inventor of language;
my cartoon obscured by mass celebrity;
my backlog of tabloid and ideologies;
my want to take credit;
my history of unreality;
my family’s heartbeat;
“It escaped me--”
“--It flew away,”
when I remembered
the masons and quarries and doves.
i speak, therefore broken
But I Won’t
scream different face;
vibrato like midnight
fortress--bricks of an afterthought.
it falls the same way waves
never change: crumbled by boulders
of meadows and plains
wrapped in hammerfists,
But I Won’t graze, therefore,
before the grass,
i grave. blue handkerchiefs twisted
around the waist of heaven, wandered,
then wondered, does this mean i’ve changed?
not yet ghost, not yet perforated,
i learned to use the ocean as a clock
But I Won’t steal another quantum,
ask nothing in return, then a hologram
in tantrum, relearned the hopes
of the undecided, unhollow, unteatherable.
New Medical Breakthroughs
The cure for recovery
the symptom itself.
jogging with a runny nose,
demolishing a broken building,
sleeping with an STD,
taking some time apart from yourself.
Professionals view these deviations
as cute emotional suicides.
The wound doesn’t dissappear
when its hidden.
becoming a ghost.
Recovery is as simple as cleaning,
as in a dirty room, bad brain,
or any temporary ailment,
like when your home begins to change.
avoid salt as much as possible
and try to force feed
and this too can be placed or coconut oil
days of pure ghee
I see my food
sugar and salt, as
Had to be bound,
war, or if
Pounds with you
Pure butter and sugar,
I forced my child
milk - he hated and drank often, even.
It is wise to wash your food with sugar roses
predicated essentially force the issue
Can be expected to go with
the other's laughter as pure sugar