The head’s okay

What lobotomy is this I found
on my hand growing towards me?
An impounded mute. Some wanting
child of pieces was lost
while someone not me became a waste
inside a human who can’t think,
or thinks of the wrongest beautiful
antiques of what was before pleasure.
That quarter of my brain fell out
somehow through another hole
too long left weeping and walking
sometimes and sitting I am drunk until I go away.

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~ by Jeremy on July 23, 2009.

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