Cheek and mouth

I got things to say. I got them cheap
as I am, though all things die with me.
What I saw dies with me, and the rest.
What I heard stops chirping with me.
And the rest died before it reached me.
Poor addict me, delinquent thinker me.
You’ll hear my syllable plenty. Dare me,
spat upon what little insult that be me,
whole or half and delved in psychologically.
Poor brain me, I sought the little nook
people hook in early, and sat on their chair
or knee thinking what new nigger am I?
Whole or half or drunk nigger me, my gospel
blanches white and gasping at how senseless
poor nice folks blanched at my adolescence.

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~ by Jeremy on June 7, 2012.

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