not having the pleasure to have contracted
one of the deadly diseases
we suffer the small nonlethal ones
w/smaller yet still torturous symptoms
every day symptoms: itching, burning, headache, gut cramps
insomnia, panic, nose bleeds, rash, vertigo, bone pain
hemorrhaging hemorrhoids, etc..
like i said, not fortunate enough to just outright fucking die
we walk around battling these little deaths
swatting them off our surfaces like insects
until the big one arrives
horizon-enormous
crushing us
in one splat
ah, relief...
This blog is updated irregularly and has nothing to do with the poet's output. The poet is actually disturbingly prolific. He writes about 5 poems per day. The pages are everywhere, even stacked in the bathtub.
Blog Archive
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2010
(103)
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September
(15)
- seizing the poison
- a quick note on genius
- the lack of everything
- un-jump-startable souls
- the fucked-up human stain
- if only we can die like this
- i feel like
- i can smell the stench from here
- born w/a cemetery in my chest
- gazing right through the dancing girls
- unwantingly speared
- the gory game
- darkness retained
- where the fuck is the relief
- one of yr animals dies
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September
(15)