george costanza

It’s not a lie if you believe it.

What if there is nothing

to hold to

and what if nothing


and what of me?

Nothing gluing

the eyes to the mouth

to the head.

Words emerge

to puff and pass

stillborn and gaunt

dead-tongue run-off;

I am elasticised!

Pickled brain and saline —

do not trust me


my eyes sting,

still believing nothing.

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