quasi_sean

i have no bone of originality left in my body--
i have sunk beneath the skin to search for words.
there are graveyard poets putting me to shame with bizarre haikus and
benedictions spoken in tounges.
there are flies around me.
23rd cigarette of the day burns too much on the bottom.
i'm following.

i'm walking.
i dreamed of a man w/acne sores and vodka sweat on his forehead.
last nite.
there was no reason for me to continue.

there was medicine.
there was absolution.

i smell a fire.
i'll hold her
thru the wind.
that's what i said.
hush the song.
the voice fades out.
and silence.
from the black box.