from eturds – father father, where art thou father—[?]
(a lunch writing)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
who was my father
to conquer
in this world forming
forth
a fist, chewing
scenery, in this
scene: I’m undeniably
attractive
—[ily] stern &
pouting
revenge
on the construction
of this
or that, I sat
thinking
“I’m so
honest”—[ily]
revolting
to know: how
sick
we truly are & full
of whim,
playing so
rough
in analsand
ruffs in our
mouths the toughs
depressed
& in the derogatory
profile
when you turned
from thy
eyes, punched me
right
in the gut
thee (flapping
Father)
threatens
my prolific
subtotals
of (an uncertain
theme) it
seems attention
cannot
detail my gift
for patiently
pooping each
morning,
I feel
so
empty-------------->Ma
stumblin’,
words, somewhere
sears,
upon someone’s
ears
strangely, The
Heart
breaks, against the strong
“Arm”
arms
thy
fucking
name
