organ donors

sippin’.     smokin’.      listening.       penning.

similar to the man’s face outside of Publix
with his shopping cart
(no groceries that I could see);
i’m growing weary.

it appears that I’m in race
and a competition
my friends are participating in.

death to my internal organs
(and let’s just get rid of external organs while we’re at it)
my brain is mushier than usual
neurons aren’t firing (i need more ammo).

lucky for the near-dead folks:
I’m not an organ donor.

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Recently moved back to the States after living 16 months in Vietnam. I write to remove the thoughts trapped in the cobwebs of my psyche before the spider envelopes me whole.

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