Фліт говорит
My name is
I who sees everything
I am
at once myself
and always
I am
with the lids of my eyeholes
crabbed in cakegoo
Focusing
the everything
unfocused
My mouth itself
is dry and
my skin itself
is full of ECK ECKS
EEEHS and =||=|||=||=isms
I live
It seems
in a mass
of
tangled shoelaces
Every where
I turn
shoe laces
tangled
I don't know their history
for whence
or where
nor how
they met
this state
I spend
my wholelife
attempting
untanglement
I forget
to eat
and my belly goes...
All no sense
that is what they say
I tend to like things
but I can't smell them
Nope
Just the
me being
unimportant
unattractive
and unfigured
It is the hands of my fingers
too close to my face
It is the shelf of myself
I smell
So
I must go
To find a path
and relations in the transient
I wake up
off to new paths I say
I walk
and walk
Till my breath itself
gets tiny
and my foot itself
gets angry
I turn
back
to my shoelaces
One day I saw a man on my path
He saw me
he shook out
a "Blick, Blick, Blick."
His hand thrust to his eyes
to blind his sight
of me
I am not
a match
for eyes
Unlike others
I don't
have the pieload
of nebulae
or
the breezy hair
nor the nubulous bloom
of face
In me
The Mother Of Natures
plants are few
She once gave to me a rash
then mites
I wish the asking
is what she did
But
back
to the man
back to the man
blinded
from my lack
of
vernality
"Where is the atrium?"
He asked
"Where is the court?"
"Could be
could be
could be?"
and I futility pointed
with all my points
in every direction
a body could point
"But,
not on my path.
There is no atrium,
no court,
no steakhouse,
no gardens of the public."
He must of peeked
threw his hands
of humanity
for He gave
the word
"Disgusting"
to my points
Then
"No help,
no help
at all."
Then
"To hell with you."
Then off
Nice thing
these citizens
with their
burden ships
It is the them
I see
their
fatskinnyness
their skin
for eruptions
They dock
they port
they shop
for
the medications
They rally
for
the colon
of family
I like for them
with all my
likeness
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