5/5/14: 3

Know where I
Am, know what I
And know that I don’t care
What these devils think,
They don’t write, they don’t even
Breathe, or speak, they just repeat,
And they want us to do
The same
Thing.. A pool table, moldy and diseased,
So captured and captivating to them,
New Romans, watching us for grin, die, suffer in
Harsh deserts, dull machine junk, look–
Think I finally have to talk, spoons not in apology, instead in a beer, vacation blue–