STAR**** **OOP**S: A Surreal Space Poetry Project – Page 37
You like dogs?
Did your dog sleep
on your bed?
I don’t have a
dog.
Mother didn’t allow
dogs.
Mother’s angry
Terribly, terribly
Hurt.
Her mind can’t
Shape human
Speech at all.
Bright except
Defective. A
Genius in [her]
Own line…
Can you imagine?
Huh? I can’t.
A trivial conversation descends into a reverie on the mental illness of a loved one. Someone rapped in themselves but unable to comprehend the thoughts that they are.
Would rather be out swimming, running, or camping. Works in state government. Spent a youth reading genre-fiction; today, he is making up for it by reading large quantities of non-fiction literature. The fact that truth, in every way, is more fascinating than fiction still tickles him.
View all posts by Jonathon
One thought on “STAR**** **OOP**S: A Surreal Space Poetry Project – Page 37”
Fun