Walls aren’t made of bricks
Words aren’t made of shit
I haven’t been sick
this is never-ending bliss.
tell Them thank you, please
all those heads, shoulders, and knees
so concerned if I’m at ease
never cold, toes of amputees.
they weren’t swollen with diseases
not viruses, nor lesions
not abscessed or inflamed
might have flourished if maintained.
Blood and pus and spit
Unaware of the extent
on some undeserving malcontent.
Watching closer than one might,
visions drowned last rainy night.
Filling up as I down a drink
never thinking how I’ll sink.
trembling with carpeted saturation.
Unfulfilled by words not promised,
though believable by intonation.
Arbitration begs subjugation,
Adoration needs temptation.
My opinions lack affirmation,
they’re nothing more than speculation.
Deprivation of sensation
My most frequent of imaginations.