Doip.
The little comma drops
with a sound like that.
Hops down the page with
some insistence.
“I, gotta be here
now.”
Is it, good?
Try, some!
I didn't say I wanted
to try some I asked, if it was good.
Let me get you, a
little plate.
I don't want any right,
now.
Oh, ok. Well there, is
a lot left over.
Was it, good?
Well try, some.
Ugh I, don't want any.
Because, I made it and
it's terrible.
I, didn't say that!
But it, is true.
It is, probably good.
Try so,me!
I do, not want any! I
just want to know if, you thought it was good.
Whaddya do there, With
the hammer and the head what is that, Happening on the inside like a
tool without a place for tools how man, how,
It's like a poem the
addiction, The why of which you can't want to know for the reasons
buried in the very old dark, What is it with all this dirt none of
this goes here get it out, God damn, For fuck's sake, I say tomorrow
we come back here sober and we fucking put this shit in the hole and
we shoot it dead and walk away and you say
...
I don't say anything. I
just watch. There is no wrong way to be.
Yeah, see, fuck you for
saying that. There is a right and wrong way to be! You can't tell me
that it is all the same, because I fucking know it is not all just
the same. Think I like my mom better now dead?
And with that sentence,
now you know.
I don't know anything.
I just got tired right there.
Because now you know
the unsaid thing.
It's not true.
What isn't?
That I like my mom
better now that she's dead. That's just not fucking true! God damn!
The Lord said “Lo, I
am with you always.”
The Lord meant “Lol...”
...
