The pressure in my head is threatening
this morning. An endless fucking sea of words.
And the words are fucking.
each other.
Dip into the sea:
Henry is not smiling. Henry does not feel well.
Moreover, Henry feels that he is not well.
This is what I think, and I have Big Eyes.
Henry gave me permission to use his name.
This is not plagiarism.
A mind has been fucked.
by another mind.
It occurred to me that this was a pleasant thought.
That I suppose was the orgasm.
Short lived:
Henry.
1 comment:
The rhythm of your words is mindful of the piece read by Berryman. The same startling harshness. The beat of breath. The pointed fingers.
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