I want to be a welter-weight

And hanker for the belt

To breach memories of failure

And open me to the sleight

Of hand that opens all doors

To youth again.


The sledge of hands opens

All doors to the memory of what’s

Important to you (not me)

Before you ask, what is it

You want to know?  If it is me

Then ask away but gain no answer

See?  Hear!


The pace-maker takes over my heart as

I give my life to the sciences, owned

By no-one in particular as it

Shoves blood to the cavity known as

The soulless one.


What devil lurks in the answers to that?



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