Madness Shall Not Go UnwatchedDavid Laskowski
So I’ve arrived and they tell me it’s for the best –this pool of infectious weeping. With what its ligaments allow – tentative sores & freely in- hospitable. They cut with primeval precision, removing a tumor from the breastplate of Ham- let’s ribs – a grapefruit whose time has come, to be eaten, squeezed with, or left for dead. Sixty-two pounds of guilt I’ve heard. Fingers to entertain its sores. A luxury afforded only to the rich cream that invites the spores. Even they’ve got to eat, the small, spherical experts, wrenching the sanity from that big melon head of his. Like a cadre of divers hell-bent on diving into treacherous waters, keeping forward, land ho land ho – a wish for something better.
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