Sunday, March 4, 2012


Psychiatry certainly has a name for it,
a billable diagnosis and
medication at the ready -
probably renamed and repackaged
and making somebody a fortune -
but let's face it,
this stuff is subjective
unless of course
are the subject.

You carry this human skull around
everywhere you go, and to tell you the truth,
it's more than a little off-putting,
and don't think for a minute that
everyone hasn't noticed your stiffness
and how you stand so awkwardly over there
by the door.

Which maybe is better than
the last time, when you sat at the table
and you and that damn skull tried to
respond to the small talk directed at you.

When you started to speak,
hot, black, liquid tar
came bubbling out of the eye sockets
of that ghastly thing
and some kind of putrid, acidic bile
drooled out through the gaps in it's teeth
corroding the table cloth and
causing the other guests to,
gradually and tastefully,
excuse themselves.

You two do that every time.

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