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today is the first mad jangling of 64 and partly cloudy, a concentrated campaign of boots hastily laced and time just about to finish. a mad flight on a mad bike; a chilled fruit eaten fast in six mad bites; everything making senseless sounds like KA TE KE TIK/ KA TE KE TIK TIK TIK. paying honor, paying attention, paying anything but bills. a new friend without the old sense or sensibility - a brand new shirt white as eight plastic-lipped pills in the pocket of my pea coat, which hangs like a corpse in my closet, which caches striped skinny ties [to the past] and gold-buttoned vest[ige]s, which are ready to wrap me in skins for the big sun, which shines just only partly cloudy. precursor pills, and only one alibi, perched on the precipice of a spurious spill - ready to be misinterpreted, mistaken, misdeemed. i swallow these things with a cold glass of pride on the rocks, cool as a puddle in my palms. my thoughts are sallow, not to be known at all; orpheus sings of proper solace like MM MRE MERY/ MR MME MRY MRE. and i, i smoke my last cigarette into the back of my throat with my mad tongue tied in clicks and whirrs like KA TE KE TIK/ KA TE KE TIK
TIK TIK TIK
i am an old weary assassin, tired of playing with this bow & arrow.
i pray you for to take in this that neither frenzy nor jealousy nor heresy will die. relics of the past taped like marks to my wall, sleeping like cornfed pests in shoeboxes under my bed, bashing about like wild blind dreams against the brass of my inside skull as i hush them hastily and try my best to nap in new arms, but, sleep chooses to spare me.
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