the birds in my head, might be caught
on the street,
only tire marks left- why is it that no longer i'm terrified of being
i scare myself even more than i disgust
the outside turning in,
the others are within
and the whitenoise is insufferably
loud - a laughtrack and applause.
unimaginable scenarious hilariously
average, turned by the mess, that is
no more hot, wet, black or pain,
just warm, damp, gray,
a numb brain
its a film screen with the curtains drawn
and how do you get out
without leaving it all?
how do I turn the birds inside out?
those dammned without responsiveness,
are so very, very insufferably, irresponsibly