this is ready to be born


did you know?

i was once buttoned

to a suit of samples

for sixteen years and never knew

my brain signals were scrambled

chalk and wool and blood and charcoal

stitched up across my wooden torso

i tried to dance but broke in half

and screamed a tired tired sigh

spelled out so clearly i said WHY?

[but its okay, i'll take my flank and make it work]

i've still got the goods to get it

tri another random tug at triumph

and if again i get so tangled

in the squeezed out paper jungle

ill just write all my restraints in cursive

so at least my yellowed history

won't become some shit stained

on a truck stop restroom wall

that echoes undelivered satisfaction

without a trace of life or passion

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