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fodder for the madman
poetry [ ]
to cough up the moon

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
by [amnesiac ]

2005-10-17  |     | 



bullets running down his throat
in laughter spineless
the bunker sacrament
no antidote

and wires in his brain
not Prozac whores
listen, sir!
doublethink the corridors

the wheelchair wars
were never fought outside the ward
in pitch dark
use no prayer

surrender to the sanitarium.

cracked
clockwork
in sickness and in faith
love-making of the meat assembly

organic solitude
knife wedded -
straightjacket skin
with broken locks

and strobe light eyes.

mad
child
fallen
asleep

we have turned you into this.

alive

unplugged

prison

bliss

.  |










 
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