Let me --

Cut off my edges. Let me, roughedged, feel
and weep. O, let me weep
until that roughedge melts
into Your skin, and then Lord
let me weep
repent
and sleep

can i then only feel
rape murder dying
all other actions -- i
am still, am sighing, i
am not here, i only want
to miss the pain and truth and blunt
realities of what we say
to one another, day by day
Give me a punchline -- or
a pun, and i will laugh. I will
watch on,
until the next commercial break,
and then
i will skip channels till another's sin
in tangerine and orange flickers
once and again
then i will watch
O stop!
i will not watch --
and yet to think is time
it shrinks
my brain into the outlines of this game
The little pain
is paid for by amusement.
Distrait --
i am not here, i cannot tell
the punchlines roll and roll
and roll and (hell!)
unfleshed skeltonic
my crazed  brain
would think, but cannot!-- reaps
such -- rotted
grain --