DECEASED
was reading the collected
poetry and
philosophical writings
of Pete Hegseth
got through it
quickly, at jet
bomber
velocity
cover to cover
in 0.3
what a great addition
he will surely make
to Heaven
after
Armaggedon
meanwhile, as twilight zone
approaches and
from crown of head
down to gnarly
tips of toes
stress
fractures do appear to appear
I notice how dawn
(both no name brand regular
and the vaunted
by early light)
appears to have tarnished,
lost something
unless I am much
mistaken, was hallucinating,
opening the curtains
facing East
left me staggering with joy
at the sudden onrushing
flood of light
which, for whatever reason, to
put it bluntly,
feels
hanging on for dear life
if not (time paradox)
already deceased
poems 2 die for 