Friday, February 11, 2011

Sad Old Brain

art thou listening?

My shine, machine, this index
the glistening, the list
wherefore thou makest a path,
and an apathy, a pathology
to rival anything ever

let's not genome.
let's not ever say
you had this
in "your squad"..

I'm quite other you see,
I am the letter which you could not break.

I am the letter, which
you could take,
with you.

I cannot break, because

do not exist.

I am the leprechaun
like noun which is verb

lepus, leper,
as only true disease that
tells its swee

le prey


leap o chaon

can you hear that?

like a deep needle
to the center of your brain
i am that penultimate doctor
that doctrine

which is itself
the thing

I am that thing
that irreducible thing
or ringing
in your vane

you meretricious omen
you vile glowing hade

you breachcloth vomiting vermin
you obscene clade

i'll beat you ever so clean
you rug
you dream

you are nothing

bulls rushing in a street
to doom

you are just a mood

you tiresome

old brain