while you sleep

Creases

Sodden targets
In an era of rampant mental illness.
Loose lips sink shrinks.
What have you tested for?
The results remain the flame.
You’ve received a phone call
That says you are loathed.
A surveillance expert creases
Your papers while you sleep.
You’ve been living underground
For two breathless months
And you don’t know what that means.

What I’m Reading:

“I don’t recall asking to be conceived! Neither did my parents come to think of it. Even so. Score to be settled. Children are vengeance.”

—John Barth / “Autobiography: A Self-Recorded Fiction”

About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
This entry was posted in Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s