you're limp words end in monotoned excellence.
Why are they not public knowledge?
What are they: the shelved dream?
I drink rice milk.
No one needs to know why or what time
I ingest and enjoy.
There's simple bruises which ease
From left rib to right.
You feel my face, it's closer to the hounds
as once predicted.
Safe pockets of genius reduced like Coles bread.
How discounted, one must feel.