Undocumented Notes On the Aftermath of a Suicide
Backward word exceptions for me
from mothers cold lipless tongue drips lies,
White and stagnation
void of a life.-
Is nothing sacred mother?
My mother?
Is nothing pure?
Even babies defecate and are never clean anymore.
I fail--as she fell.
But two eyes are better than three
and doesn’t allow such and such’s brain to bleed.
She had her head on the floor but she had her eye on me.
Lips soft as a kiss and open for guests but no feelings
there was no life there
nothing intermission to flatten the flowers and lost.
Further expeditions into my fragile fragmented psyche
leads one to a temporary understanding of life
through the perspective of one afraid of conformity
yet change
yet being identified as a same
the same-ness is a blow to the ego center
bordering on ego death
but only by a completely Egotistico way
you and you and you and me I you and we
our seasons the moment we are zero: a free radical
Copyright © Lloyd J Bonds | Year Posted 2019
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