Archive for September 17th, 2014

The Melancholy Of Anatomy: Fail

I write along a single line: I never get off it. I said that you were never to kill anyone, and I meant it.

—Kenneth Patchen

You’re killing now. “Mr.” Obama. Killing brown people. Brown like you. And you no longer have any excuse. This time, you can not blame any others. You are killing, this time, because youyou yourself have chosen to kill.

I told you I meant it. About the killing.

You, apparently, didn’t give a shit.

And so now, in turn, I don’t give a shit, for, about, you.

In fact, I spit at your feet.

And then I turn and walk away.

You are dead to me.

Go collapse in the corner, huddle, in cuddled shame, with the other bloodmouths and butchers. Such a disgrace, you are. Butcher. Killer. Disgrace.

Howdy Doody. Amos & Andy. You. Are all the same.

Forget I ever knew you. For it’s same as it ever was. There in the White Room. You: just black curtains.

Yeehaw.

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