My story told the same
way, except this way,
seam reverse stitched and still
same, is there, with error
what wrought, do {do not}
think, I ought naught, push
passed with manic madness,
killing orphan{phrase}, lodged
in deep pockets, spits back, with error
whatever was still there.
The rough thought, thought slinky,
except this way, spit back, press back

special, need, kick, push, hide, crunch.
The bruised feeling sticks tasty,
tongue loose to it, too fat to fit,
much space needed for me to pass.
Sponsor this, life attractive, no longer
remember it, misfit, miss phat, unclean
parade, too old for that now.
Ill I feel.
All over, yes, ma’am, my fake is real,
most times, more real than my truth.