the deadly path of foolishness
to embarrass yourself (?)
I think not (!)
more so, a means of exposure,
somberness and stoic have their own melody
and after all, it is not in the words
but to tone anyway.
hell, really, it’s in the breath,
you show me, first hand,
and I’ll see for myself,
if that is what is needed
to tease the straights out of me.
look, every broken wheel is an unique,
an original smile.
am I too dense to only be looking past
and not notice?
even a sly or faint smile from within will do,
I’m going to start a charter school
inside of me
and I am going to fun(d) it for myself.
I am not asking for a change of venue
or change in general.
I want to know expansion first hand
but not as replacement.
even if I am a phantom amputee,
I’m still raising my hand.
my spirit whispers to me,
although I cough its silent truth.
breath is that rope to deliverance
even while the grip burns.
I would gladly live with
the stigmata of blisters appearing,
become tortured hand puppets
of spiritual animation,
then slap myself silly
with convulsive laughter as cover.
but you would know, well,
some of you would truly know.
why have matter
if you can’t live the truth alive
within it (?) . . .