Suffixes
Ness
That parasitic suffix hitches himself
onto every word, turning
adjectives into nouns. And a noun
makes a mere condition seem constant,
permanent to a person,
like some incurable sickness. See?
Point is,
you get lost enough times and it becomes your ness.
Dox
X…
Ksss…
Don’t you like the way it just—
Ksss…
landing like water drops on a hot stove.
Ksss…
extinguishing any anxious notions.
Ksss…
Religion really soothes the soul, it
Kisses
the intellects of restless folks,
With the promise of a "next."
In any case,
Kiss
your ceiling before you sleep,
Kiss
your plate before you eat,
and
When you wear wooly socks, say thanks,
because
us spoiled fucks
ought to remember:
What we consider curses would be their blessings.
Ed
comes to kill us all. He
swings his scythe and signs his name on every verb, violently
snuffing out family and friends, now frozen and fixed
in place, put in the past,
and then announced with profound sadness.
“He works as, or worked as, I should say…”
“She wants—no, wanted to be…”
Although, (I should say)
it is through these
quick corrections, concealed by cold fact,
we see truly, proof of life
beyond coffins and suffocation
an existence persisting
just
in some new, mercurial mode.