Prologue: On Paper, from [UNRELIABLE]

Off him, I said.
And he was dead. The jerkoff
walking his infection around
a national cemetery said,
another dead soldier.
White cross on his shoulder.

Anyway, I was good on paper,
blank and ready. Hold steady,
someone said, and plowed into
me. An hysterical shriek came
out of me five stanzas at a time.
Five handjobs for a dime.

I'm a wreck.
The bike wheel round my neck bit flat.
Theatre school dropout boarding
a train without any knowledge.
Hey man, genuflect
for me at Boston College.

Seriously, without a laugh I
flashed so many smiles down
the flooded gutters. Choking
back salt, snow, shivers in
my inherited nest. While Mother
tidies up our homelessness.

Dead anyway.
Bastard said so straight away.
He swung, he's fucked, I ducked.
Something I got from Father
learning how not to contuse.
'Cause I so easily bruise.


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