20 Minutes to go
before full fledged hysterical depression.
like a wave of missiles
from some unknown enemy
a section of the globe
that you can't believe
you never looked at.
Can I get a what?
"what?"
[
Mentioning crucibles in free association
is usually a play on crucifixion;
Freud slips on the banana peel
that you forgot to throw away
when you couldn't admit
you had nails driven into your wrists
and you told them all you'd take care of it.
]
Stop! Hammer Time!
Who's got the hammer to drive them deeper;
I used to tell him he was a horny bastard
and he would say he had a secret that he would tell
if I didn't shut up. He never revealed it
and I never shut up, but boy, it sure got better!
I can imagine that if I had a third arm
I would be hanging from something
with my wrists on chunks of wood;
the only thing stopping me now
is that I'd not have a spare hand.
They'd ask me, they'd say,
"what's so hard, friend?"
And I'd tell them how difficult it is
to find anything that fits
inside this crucible.
--
-e.
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