it interests you not so why the notes?
Here I smile and that and I talk when I have no reason, no business, no idea
only the bruises to show for it
We're not so versed in these matters, we just empty the piss pot
like a parlour made
if I said to you
all my life they said
do you know what i mean or who they are or even
what it means, all my life?
there are those who know to run the faucets
twice a day in the winter to keep the pipes from cracking
there are those who know - they say they know - what i'm made of
but if your life is to empty the piss pots how much more could there be?
More it's the lack perhaps,
we all know a lack even if we can't name it
there are those who know the everything, the all there is to know
even through clenched-teeth denials
with fists so tight the blood is drawn
a chorus of death efforts
with no awareness.
What we do with what we’ve killed
4 hours ago