Weeds grow where they want to; not where they're told to grow...

erbacce-press

Mario Susko

EPI/LOGOS

there i was trading words for life
  hoping they’d live beyond themselves
i had seen the truth but never claimed
  to be the one to have touched it

death was sleeping in my bed
  pretending it kept it warm for me
while i lay frozen on the table
  with a piece of lead in my forehead

there were flat shapes there words
  could not negotiate fault lines
i thought would some day close and heal
  as if the senses had never fractured

was that the point where i was let go
  to stumble spectrally through a tunnel
into the exploding frameless light
  unaware darkness also left me blind

whatever the visionless roads that brought
  me to this stage that is my fate
words imprinted on the skin now
  lesions on the membrane of memory

and if this is what i have to be to know
  what i was not to be the only thing
left to tell Shakespeare is i have lost
  my mind trying to save my head

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