Wednesday, November 12, 2008

And Memories Sour Soar


after you were bitten by a wolf transformed

into a monster who feeds on other human beings,

each full moon and who, therefor, in disgust

wants to die. you think "the desire to die is not

feeling suicidal. it abjures mere action." you have

wanted to die since the moment you were born

crazy narratives - that lend what is merely

in you- fleeting illusions of logic and cause.

you think "those there, lead their true lives!

they have not as we have been

forced to here, cut off their arms and legs."

there, you danced as well as Fred Astaire,

though there, here, inexplicably you cannot

sewer still just black water

in whose mirror you bent your face,

i can still see you

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