I went wild when my laces

came undone and ended

up in therapy on a ward

where I screamed


and shot the sherriff

with the needle-gun in

my hands

to produce a buffalo

analogy that would

open the heart of men,

as I sent for reinforcements

to go with me to

the front where I proceeded

to annihilate men who were

in the ways of progress

without knowing it.

They (the psychiatrists)

could not know it but they

were true to no one

but themselves

journalists not weavers

and not men of musket and fibre

they knew not they could use

it for they asked for time

not fabled wonder and so it is

they found out the use of one is

the rot of all.

No games of chance here

just light years away from the

work of the tonnes that make

up black holes and their rotting

cores called the root of all things

and they find it through

the use of tiny

things called lozenger type

pills of therapy and

cyanide.  It blows away your belt of life

and shows you the went of it

the too and the fulltime

loss of timers and rants

for the rate of all

is the screamer who chooses

to say

I love you too!



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