What do you want from me, friend?
Feast your eyes upon the elderly amalgam.
These are not my audience.
These are not my people.
Do you, dear old white lady
replicated thirty fold, remember
what it is to be capable of nothing?
Let’s try again.

What do you want from me, love?
Observe the antiquation of a thought:
a thought they all forgot, bornéd
of mycotic rot in high school.
Watch it tarnish; breathe.
Breathe as though you know
something they don’t.
Let’s try again.

What do you want from me, verse?
Prophetic rite falsely perceived cannot
capture what it is to be as helpless.
These are the old guard, to discard
their lament is hard pressed upon me
to allay: because they are as they are.
I hear Einstein had some thoughts on insanity.
Let’s try again.