I'M AIMING HIGHER
Time it is goes like a flub, run through your veins
and in your mind with a garbled message never silent.
Here we are, the big, stupid crowd, just waiting for
people to die. We count them off : age, role, reason.
Gargle me with peppermint paste and I won't be late
for anything at all. My funeral was last Tuesday and
I didn't show, just like I said. Now they've cemented
my remains into a garden tower cinder-blocked with
bad intentions. Where oh where am I to go?
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