Of arrogance

I beg to be an institution.
I have heart not, for I dissected
that organ in all of its grammar.
What claim have I to toiling fame
but what I purchase in the urn?
A madhouse might learn me, I pray,
though so little is a language
that it might wake me to the day
I toil, instead, in the workhouse
as the foibles of my youth fade
inside or alongside my supple brain.
Abide not anxieties of barter or buy
for all the world worships is strange.

~ by Jeremy on May 25, 2013.

2 Responses to “Of arrogance”

  1. But I really wanted to abide the anxieties of barter…

  2. You’re lucky I’m drunk.

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