Diatribe From An Empty Room
The mind was old before it came upon you,
it took your shoes
made you walk upside down
in an inverse eye.
Pray tell, is all well?
Now expostulate your lip tripe
and see if any much broken soul
cares.
Keep your trapdoor mind,
your garmented flapping pockets
so full of the disavowed,
the cancelled out widow weeds
of fake sorrow.
Be not evermore, be not even now.
As always there is much to be taken back.
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