a poem that i felt needed to be written:

I feel like a tidal wave had just come and
glossed me over. (Sad, trite analogy.)
And look at me--musing since twilight to noon.
(You'd think I'd gone over it soon,)
but deciphering pixels through
an antique cornea:
over, over, over,
while feeling the same tremor
over, over, over;

Natural disasters had brewed twice in my room;
first was the monsoon. Then the paroxysm.
Then the gaze of the moon smited me,
and down I went into a funneled slumber.
I had only thought about the numbers. And
it hadn't left me since.

Peed thrice in the dead chamber. Tiptoed
my way to the pee hole everytime,
covering numbers. (then again, over, over, over),
and in my endeavors dreamt hyacinth myths
mondegreen scenes I'm CERTAIN was salty:
I hadn't heard it right. Nope. I cannot read. I'm blind
(when I decide to be).


I hadn't heard it,
but expected--
hadn't heard, heard, heard, heard, heard.
lubDUB lubDUB lubDUB lubDUBlubDUBlubDUB





so let us go, then,
you and i;
when the evening is spread out
blatantly against the sky--
like a patient
etherised
upon a table.

The edema I spot is mutual,
erect on my upper left quadrant.
Yet it haunts me and taunts them, lucidly
waving its skin like a whore--
its flesh sweeping and decanting incessant pools of glossolalia:
Less-s-s-s-s, small-s-sm-small, small-er!

the adulterous letter, my decrepit badge,
(rewarded by Hitler; the yellow star).

Flagged for greed, implicit of weakness;
the best consequence is that the women gossip
over tea. But not with me, and not with their boys.