Compose the html strain
on our mimic brain--mechanical
mind melding fuck-all
teacher is segmenting bodies,
classifying objects, bleeding the
discourse into the marrow
of our bones,
lunch is a rambling
sentence spreading over
half hours of time
clicking measured lengths
counting up? counting down?
counting only to remind us
who's in control--
oh, weary servant's song
I'm in the quarters
quartered feeding on the beast,
drowning on its browned
milky puss--perpetuating
the link--
I believe the TV
I read the news
I am a suffering invalid
unbelieved out of existence
living in bright shadows
entirely--
We took the elevator down together,
we saw separate things, different
thoughts, metabolized brains--I drowned in the shit
spewed from the floors while
you looked for the sewer
drains and we promised
the whole way no matter what
that we'd hold each others hands.
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