this poem is littered and battered like
trajectory ink spatter, sputtering
the failure, I. awk-
wardly complilate to relate
my jinga ladder
of a mind. never-
mind. poetic collateral, dam-
aged. call it what it is,
labotomy, ahold of me,
cranial collapse, mismanaged.
call it
the death of me. I caught
it again.
It's got me pinned.
I'm at the tip
of my skull scratching
again. like lice born within
the bittersweet fountain-
pen. they're draining,
straining my brain
like liquor. I'll consume
them. this poem's already
chronic and crippled.
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