Saturday, October 02, 2004

terminally void

I'm a no good son of a
bitch. don't dare
tell me otherwise.
men who walk through
these doors lose a
little something.

a gigantic fly floats
on throughout my house.
he can be heard. wings
buzzing crazily. or maybe
it is not his wings
at all. perhaps the buzzing
filling my head comes

from the tiny fly
mouth these words again.
I'm a no good son of a
bitch. let me show you
why I was beaten

down so long that
I cannot possibly rise
revolt against anything.
repulsiveness is a forte
finely crafted after many

years ago I killed
a man haunts me
stalks me. jerks me
around I go.
flushed.

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