poem || Edward Nichols

DEAD  MEAT


Everything's becoming clear, now it's more complicated than ever, Life, for me, has started anew; it seem's as stale as moldy bread.

Have you anything my compatriot, a able tonic for the head to set this all aright. So I'm not left here, through fresh and neew, to rot like a refined corpe, who's been buried in the most adrantageous of circumstances.

I've leisure at every command, yet mh time seems to run shorter, want you stay with me, even though I'm surrounded by well-wishes and companion by the scare and be my alby my friend.

Man or woman, I care not, whisper sweet nothings, in my ear, even though they fall immediatley wilted and dead, won't you my friend help to relieve me from this awful dread; That sometimes I choke an, like food consumed to fast, and give me another dose, filled, if even fakly, with compassion and care.

Denial of the Spirit,
It's life, it's the fear in it.
Denial, a three headed dragon, a Hydra,
The codes on the codes on.
Three headed Dragon; a Hydra-
The Codes-on The Codes on.
The mad Hatter speaks in codes.
Down In Alices hole.
Denial of the Spirit,
It's life, it's the dear in it.
Confusion. Contiusion's.
I've reached a conclusion, a solution.
Denial, a three headed dragon, a Hydra,.........................
Codes On. Codes On.