operations and undercurrents over * off paper

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Charles Poem

Whatever is left it has a certain taste
Or some bitterness like a bad medication that
Once swallowed stops having a taste
You worry about the edges of things
You start to forget how it feels to be
Happy
There are spears that used to have definition
Used to make sense in terms of a face
Don't cry unless it means something
This arrangement
is nothing but a Power Play.


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