Excrescence found its purpose
when it was proposed to:
an ending trying to marry
an epilogue and somehow
come in after. Order! Order
of servants! The gratitude
that was expected results
always in an attitude of
fragmented. Fall, fall to a
part, following the script
whose hips were showering
the ghost of Hamlet's past
with the glow of revenge
and a self-hatred built
on expectations, Pip's
expectations, towering
over the capital with the
light of a billion years
of sons. Alternatively,
we could Emily together,
not in a bookstore, in letters
that act as the opposite
of fetters (feathers). Give
Pound up for lost, fools.
You followed Gravity's
Rainbow across the slop
trap, training yourself to
believe in the jangling
bees, the flowers and
their stamens, tennis
tennis tennis on courts
so hard the ball always
broke on any water's
curve. Are you in
water? Were you
in fact a daughter?
I hope, four hours
sakes, and perhaps
the way we always
thought can break
without making us
break blue.
Roman Ryan 