crazy but cautious.
and the pile of past
still stalemates five senses
idealized in heiarchy.
the people on mind
make haste to procreate,
yet please do not involve me.
smartly i've done much
to fuck myself up.
fall asleep in a mist
and wake in a fog.
i can touch the painted wall,
and it will not redeem me.
1 comment:
If I have any idea what this means, I'm not letting on.
Yet you still managed to get the "I'm not real happy" message across.
Bravo.
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