Poem: New Experiences

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.

Poem: New Experiences