Spoken Notches

Smoking notches I write.

I stand trembling in this wilderness.

On the prowl.

My wild nature comes forth.

FEAR!

Fear me for I am that which

Is not

Real

Help god created all of us.

Inner madness.

I come rushing out if the currents

Thrashing my wooden bowel

I tremble

A glorious tremble

And I rumble

Rash

Cold press juice

Manhattan

And I love her

Again it’s not me