fake april fools poem
having nothing more to say about the many ways i said the same thing over again i then take the book leafing through its chambers revolving until a fire erupts my fire spills and a teardrop of burned foolishness exposes the green shoots of my idiot taking from the air an audience eye channels news of passing and the beautiful black drop a backdrop of burn points just as the gun pointed out by redundant anchors like white trees locking us in a gentle head waving shake an act of pity and acting to be sure so that we're all right with sorrow the miracle of fire caused by a rot of head exposes this kiss of bullet touched off flame quenched by no loss of blood there was the glowing beauty in that fooling death how many times must this anchor splash into our dark ocean before children see the lies i am not dead that is the best joke played on the world april foolthere is little reality here Written April 2nd, 2002 © on Apr 02 2002 03:21 AM PST, Frederic Jacob Gutknecht IV 0 • 1
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"having nothing more to say..."