"I've got this killer up inside of me... I can't talk to my mother, (friends, women, coworkers, associates, affiliates, city council, the internets, the homeless or even your mother) so I talk to my diary."

-that Scarface song from Office Space

Refrain for Ptolemy

I can’t earn my self-decay
Though provision-less, I parley
In the reflecting pool
You’ve pissed for me
A yellow interpretation of my energy.

The culmination of my
Thought, concern and grief
Dissected and discerned
As chivalry.

Let me tell you…
I don’t die this way;
For all the passion you assuage
The milk in your lungs
And the tattered ribbons of your final page…

…in history.

A novel I have read
With distaste on my tongue
And there is nothing from I’d
Ask
Of what her paragraphs said,

But resuscitate
Alleviate, that need for reparation
So colorfully awarded at Chapter one

I gotta’ tell ya’,
Tonight is not my night!

-Winter ’04

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