Sunday, October 17, 2010

45*21

where are we going when we disappear
I know for sure you could a hard shit have
to figure out what anybody is up to
all these triangulations
Enough to starve a sex craved man
There are no sights on this riffle
I try to sit very flat in the plump chair
I be gin my disappearance
I start by telling everybody
"Nobody look at me."
Then i disappear
and it is no big deal
Feels good to be gone
Then loneliness creeps in
I'd much prefer to let on I can be alone
when, in fact, loneliness is a creep
He's teaching Kung Fu at the Pizza Hut
I bum a smoke
It is very natural
Smoke goes in to green lungs
like wind through the woods

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