The game is on,
my nerves are lit:
under heavy fire
and fuel is this writ.
an unresolvable dynamic resulting from
a tedium of dreams combined with
a few isocoles triangles,
who watch my movements from
shaded corridors
as I take out the trash.
Taking out the trash,
I catch your reflection in the glass.
One must stop caring about such things.
Oh call it off!
call me crazy.
Take your world rainstorm by rainstorm
into the bright and painful light.
I will sit here and write.
I will list my loves on one finger.
I will spit and snarl and howl at the moon.
I will throw the frail bodies of joy and suffering
mercilessly against the brick walls of this place!
Leave it to be,
be it to grow,
grow to be more.
I am tired okay?
I am tired every day.
I am bored without a drink or a bowl.
I am psychotic and sane!
I am your neurons your fire your pain!
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