Poetry by Neil Knowlton-Randall
The ones that you love
End up loving you.
Nope. Wrong.
End up appreciating you?
HA! Try again.
End up dead?
Whoa! Easy there Mr. Mayhem.
Leave psycho-boy back home.
Well what is it then?
The things that you own
End up owning you.
Oh. But I love the things that I own.
They’re nice.
They’re nice
Because you’re dependent on them;
They own you.
Not my duvet!
Especially your duvet!
Keep yourself warm!
What about the remnants
Of my botched colonoscopy?
Your what?
The Dr. said that
I would be fine; it was only
A teensy piece.
I named it Jack.
You are fucked up, man.
It sits in a jar by my bed.
I made the jar a hat.
Sooo fucked up.
This is so weird...in a good way. Thumbs up(I made them little hats!)
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