Untitled
Tracy Bersley
i can't see anything today
the sun crawling through the leaves,
the murky pond where the ducks get stuck in the muck of moss, or
the smoke blowing above the trees from a fire started by some man to burn
waste, (not by some Indian tribe barbecueing their kill like i imagine).
Why don't i see these things today?
i am drugged by a poison far more intoxicating then the irish cream i had in my
hot chocolate last night.
i am diseased, and the very thought of the cancer that grows gives me a chill
that raises the hair on my legs until i look like a plucked chicken,
and it numbs my brain until it affects my vision,
and my observations become obsolete.
That is why i do not see those things today.
(You see, it is easy for this demon to possess me because he probably
never had to go on a diet).
i eat a Butterfinger in a yellow stall with a toilet as my only witness
and i feel like I've been violently raped
and all i really want to do is smell the flowers. . .
but i can't see them to smell them.
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