It’s a special cream cheese/spread it/taste it/Past Time acts
silently/Invisibly as wind/bends boughs/seen only
through its effects. Extrapolate-
hurt/the heart seethes
Crimea-Kurdistan-The Pashtun Republic
Seethes in silent sufferance/plots/weaves
a net of chill revenge.
I     I
gobble gobble. Mind displaced by hate.
In rude frenzy/ thrashing and scything
at innocent air/reeling in red rage.

The fire burns itself out. Mind returns
to a bed of grey ash. Leaving only one way out
self-murder/the hand turned against the heart.
The blood-rose blooming/on the linoleum.

This is how it happens. A kind of possession
Pushed out/from the seat of consciousness/
and replaced by another. An act/
which achieves itself/and with its completion/
ceases to exist.
Eli, Eli, is gone.

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