counting

like when they tear out tonsils you just quit at some number the next thing you know your sister is spitting up blood i m on the floor in a kitchen they say i fell like a tree happy trash cans are plastic breaking the fall mine that i missed my memory s of the table leg mostly so colorful in here meaning where the hell and there s no way in there that i can stand though i know it s their exact wish still a thing impossible to do like say yes when frank asks if i m ok no sorry just to make maud hang up with lies to 911 so officials stay away however they just do and i just couldn t help or take back shocking the just visiting sister family you know that whole time of being half there i felt like i was watching almost wholey sane and saying fred you ve done it now and need to care more for these friends talking to my dead stoned self quite surprisingly aware of where i was and how the conversations played moving wriggling in my dead body trying to come back and tell everyone that i think it will be ok saying not just this what should never have been but what promise the sad world held now beyond maud s tupperware of vomit held rolling with me wretching home thanking susan for the ride in sickness and in health to come from the breathing angels gems counting on all their heavenly crowns on all of these friends there thinking still countingjust here writing to write trying to break out of something but quite stuck in time Written March 4th, 2002 © on Mar 05 2002 08:17 AM PST, Frederic Jacob Gutknecht IV   0 • 10