oison, everything where stagnant, radar razor
searching dogs, swirls around above
within and without, it has dimensions unpredicted
ill prepared for and insulted thus, like steam off skin
spilling fumes, what poison the soul
in times of strife, don’t let seductive deduction
fog your mind, and never forget the struggle.
Remember that speech class?
Nice one, doofus, serves you right
to watch yourself, thinking you sound like a retard
because you do, but the top mind is uncluttered
with such considerations now.
My coma gave me an accent, irresistible to those
who hand out cookies at Subway, curiously
deceptive well-wishers, like parents and friends
who don’t call anymore, as if I would want
a babbling brook at my bedside, emotions and experiences
lived and felt as new, because they are new.