The thinking symptom

It is only when my teeth
chatter that I accept
I am only matter,
nothing more, not worthy
of a conversation with
a violent snakefish or
a boomslang or rattlesnake.
Youth is strange and
indecisive as a boomerang.
It opposes every plan
you labor to make
like stars balanced in
perfect binary spins,
their mad march of war
that defies all sense
in the consequence of which
lives every man, young or
old as sight and scent,
helpless as the newborn
instantly acquainted with
rejection whether from
the impermanence of swimming
or neurotransmission.

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~ by Jeremy on November 28, 2011.

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