can’t remember-
of her friends,
who is the cutter
and who is the thief
and who is skin and bone
and who’s schizo
who tries to dance
to the
beat
in her
own
head
twitching pirouettes
whispered by the ballerina
locked inside
the marrow of her r i b s
who wouldn’t talk
because he knows
he’ll spill his
guts
if he does
rambling unnecessity
like an untuned AM radio
who scans herself in
as an
automatic
reject
with barcode arms
and perpetual regret
of her oft-used
s y
el it
f – p
who considers himself a
p o e t
because he speaks
right
from his heart-
never mind that it’s all profanity
(maybe he should be scared, too ? )
can’t remember uniquities-
they’re all the same anyway,
joined in a mutual desire
for assured
destruction,
simply because they’d
rather not
be like
this
–
written a9jul2011.
–
idiography 