My wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death

07 Jan

————

My wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death

 

He wrote me a prescription

and put your name in it

the doses in which I should take you

but it’s hard to find an erection

during a funeral march

the drums are deafening

and our sound prances

like a gloomy jester

cast by a bashful dramaturge

dying like a thought in the street

then underneath the pavement

like a meaningless Hoffa

and soon the beating heart stops to rest

and the medication no longer works

and I wish daddy wore a condom

so that I didn’t see this world like this

melodramatic, I know – but better than

facile and faceless

clear against the nexus of the other nameless

I’ve never wanted to die within it   

asking for forgiveness for doing nothing

some crafty potential that snuck in

like a tricky mule with a stomach ache

a blister for your pennies

a penny for your thoughts

a prescription that no longer works

and other machinations that create this clarity

amid your mist.

———-

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Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings


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