2024-09-08

Lymph Noed

I never want to take my medicine,
Cuz then I’m too sick to write——
Too believed my feigned intelligence
When with my body I pick a fight;

When spit, like truth, becomes hard to swallow,
And fatigue replaces rage——
When, with my own nausea, I can cease to borrow
Others' vomit on the page.

But I live in a place with hundreds of peepholes,
And “Tanya! Tell me the news!”
(And sorry to the Mexican who shared my needles,
Cuz HIV is coming soon).

Unknown lives and deaths
In the bricks AND in the abodes——
May the wauss enjoy his final breaths
Before the abdomen removed.

Some crackheads have a patron saint
Who lives and walks among us——
God’s kingdom she does not await
(My throat is filled with virus).

P.S.

Oh! And sorry to the schizophrenic wizard
Who I moved in to stalk.
Once I read enough Gadamer,
I’ll replace him with his walk.