this is a no good good no

the following isn’t what is could be

*

he died

like a hot dog

with the condiments of death

sprinkled when the ketchup dried

like relish of a haircut

and a stank of something resembling

mustard gas

and stuffed with meat that

was too jumbled to differentiate

but that did look delicious

at least on the outside

*

it is all so fake

and i see that

and i am that

and i am better

for seeing that

and worse off

for i am no more

than what i see

being part of it all

and being a necessary

whole myself that wonders

if it is real anyways

look away

*

if only i have

i will have no need

to need

but unfortunately

i have the need

of only if

*

i am afraid

if i call myself a writer

or a poet

or anything worthy

i will join the pile of shit

i feel myself seeping into

a lump i try to avoid

by writing and poetry

and doing worthy anythings

that make me less afraid

of what i am