Jealousy of It Transgressing And
It's all agreeably too loud in here All-ready
And after It's laid out, (It being my God)
It will be enveloped into Itself before our
Retinas can take hold.
Like constantly nudging a ball towards the-
You're not entitled to gravity:
You're not powerful enough to stop it.
My tongue is uncomfortable,
I'm dissatisfied with its linear limitations,
And how betrayed I feel when told lines are endless.
Dissatisfied with and meaning and,
Then the uncomfortable expectation after said
And forgiven isn't an action received by concepts,
Or given in concept:
I is not a numerical concept- what is It?
Infinite numbers is hell.
Infinity is true heaven.
And my tongue is dissatisfied with failing and
With its inability to transgress my mouth.
And the corners of my cheeks are uncomfortable.
And my fingers are contemplating
Self-inflicted transgression themselves-
Thank God I am dead to my body.
This mouth is not my mouth. Etcetera.
Share This Poem