you're pretty sure that
you know me, with your
condistaflection framed
with an aura of distinagogy,
but shorty, I'm here to
tell you, my restalation is
not just some drug-induced
conflagration, it is a divine
interspoliation, a straight
disdelineation of the man
that I must be, the
periquintesial progression
from one regression to the
next, a verifiable verital
vestigial divestment of
sacrements, all devoid of
earthly measure, human
treasure, bodily leisure,
abdominal abominable
undertaking, all of it
sitting in a corner, shaking,
quaking, and even forsaking
all that I lack, side to side,
flying free and in a
natural glide, taken in
stride, which ruthlessly,
truthfully, ain't that
damned much.
October 10, 2011.
Copyright © 2011, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.
