Misaniovent

We were thirty-eight at seventeen Here, We live from cigarette to cigarette. Elsewhere, Some of us are fighting wars. Some of us are jarring bells. Some of us are collecting shells. The rest of us are sleeping, dreaming about everything. We would get up, We would cry help But our pillows are scented With bedspreads of one-million-thread-count Egyptian cotton. My God We are almost rotten. It's so hard to see the top from the bottom. We could cry help. We would get up. But we are already forty-something. and I think we've forgotten.

I took a bus ride behind a thick-coated Man. I saw him get up and I saw him get on And so I followed him instead of following my overstated footsteps, still fresh from yesterday and yesterday’s yester. Let me tell you, he smelt like old uniforms left in thinly lit closets, unforgotten And cotton. There was something about his His His silent mouth, corners turned no-ward. Let me tell you There were words between his wrinkles. I took a bus ride. Behind a sad-browed man. I saw him sit down and I saw him get uncomfortable. Let me tell you, he smelt like Intoxicating jasmine and peasants with purple dresses hidden in their a

O Lilith fair, the counter-blind Does charm her midnight wicker-man With dawn-bright kiss, the tie-and-bind: He smoulders bright, that flicker-man. She comes, the bright white Lilith-day With gold and jewels and fun'ral pyre To wash your whiskey-tears away And cleanse each child-crown with her fire.

Dear Mother,     Your thoughts were just misspelled.          I am not loose.               I am lose.                             Knowing this,                  There is not a word or world which could tear me apart now.    (all I need are my own two hands.)

There is an anus on my forehead Resting right in the center. It is my least appealing feature. Though I make it sound merely unpleasant, I actually loathe the goddamned thing Just for even existing. I wipe my face after I flush, and I puke my guts out When my stool is loose. But I guess I should be thankful That one day, I will die.