Head Games
The mounted head begins to speak:
you know, I like it better this way,
I feel more like myself,
no body to worry about anymore,
just me alone with my thoughts,
and there’s time to talk to you
without the distractions of
yada yada yada
I know dear and I prefer it, too,
I say, putting on my
boxing gloves.
Now remind me,
where did you store
the tongs?
Posted by Michael Arnzen | June 25th, 2008
Dept.: Gorelets: Unpleasant Poems | Permalink
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