turning the page
drinking it in is alright,
it’s inside right?
but pissing it out, well -
it don’t feel right, does it,
dribbling these words
down the legs of a poem.
what’s left right here is retention
of the extravasation of a feeling
that there are more words to come;
but how damp the mind is these days.
tears running inward down one’s spine
don’t feel right either. stand up straight!
and let the tears run into your mouth
as you mumble the sobbing words,
and turn the page.
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