Something for me
poetry
The great laughter I have come too arrives in fits. It is not words that matter most no one believes them, these words these thoughts of things they think of things. Liberty, a comedy of juggled objects Truth, a mystery of historical lies Justice, as blind as its idol's zealots Whatever word words its meaning words a worm of something that really matters Something for me. That's the thought that leeches into the bleaching black of itself burning itself white. Something for me. Echoed so long becoming a reverberation that can trace itself back to the first suckle of that first nipple. That first taste to desire to satisfy to satiate to overcome and never look down into hunger ever ever again. Something for me. That's the worm that eats all words that I thought would matter, that could at some time be itself the matter leaving only laughter.