in curing prayers
there s nothing left to hide except that horrific sadness that you can spend only a worthless life naming over and over and trying to get that name right wallowing in tools and paper pretend doctor muttering remedy calling for more tests if questioned muttering still while patients die bleeding from your head locked in drugged lottery dreams lost pinching yourself with false hope or strapped to an electric correction you wake in the found art of your sloth indecisive self abuse guaranteed by those lost years and though weve been somewhere quite shiny after deaths you can t remember that place too or find the map or name you ve lost you cannot even say i cannot say oh holy crazy on the block left to cleave your own failed head alone away from my failed life i ve failed again Written January 3rd, 2002 © on Feb 19 2002 10:05 AM PST, Frederic Jacob Gutknecht IV 18 • 0 • 1
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"there s nothing left to hide..."