Sometimes my doctors tell me
I'm the proctor of my own madness.
A helicopter missing a blade.
A one-float parade
in the ghost town I made.


A quiver of broken arrows.
A hilt with no blade.

A shitter that's missing a handle.


A candle-less wick.
A rickety bridge.
A corner-snickering coroner
in the morgue of his mind.
A mime with a story to yell..



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