How then shall I live?
Large, like an infected hangnail
Once again, with feeling
In an obscure corner of a failed state of euphoria
In a corrugated cardboard box with all the trimmings
As if each day were a nanotechnology-based self-cleaning adhesive
As a bystander, but with a mobile phone and a Twitter account
In a fantasy world of warcraft
Barricaded behind my books
With a 300-pound hooker named LaBrea
In a toxic stew of fly ash
Hot on the trail of tears
Deprived of sleep by non-stop bombing
Like a refugee from the land of reasonable men
In trust, in hock, in situ, in extremis
Behind the lens and at the mercy of strangers
As if the top of my head were taken off
Quietly, so the neighbors won't suspect a thing
With pizzazz, topped with brio and onions
Automatically, so I can channel all my energies into despair
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