Disevaluation of My Human Beingness

 


Tens of Thousands
right on the nose.

Gaming clueless in
the far'flung war zone.

"Life" in the balance,
(because it has to End)
               (sometime),
(likely sooner   than    later).

the drain pipe drips     as
drips a drain pipe.  "Boy f'got
to turn the meter on".

Is that really the crunching
crux of All This?     Always
questioning the provided
             answers?

Addicted to the Hard Way.
Or so says the time of day.
Squirting fatuous Phantasms
that only Mr. Coggleduck is
apt to decode/decypher.

We've been six leagues from
a pro'verbial soul-hole fortune,
yet no arms long enough to grasp.

Back to the subways. Leah and I
on the subways.  Some say i'm
so self-serving that my daughter
wouldn't have been there.  
Some think i've some-how defiled
her memory.

Six league soul-hole fortunes
over-looked or never seen.

No difference to her, nor to
 the man who looked like me
~when i was not looking.~

Partitions of particle-board left
in the rain can only be warped
and weak, and otherwise just
          as      useless

as the words dripping from these eyes
    of colors matching mine.

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