The parts of me that are missing
have yet to be identified
I can’t feel them but I know they’re there
The missing parts of me.
Side-effected, all bestrewn with ideal dogma
of use and pure nostalgic coming of thusly
Blown up, tied up and unleashed by
psychiatric industrialist bombers
who use me as their tissue of
to blow their noses on/off
the switch of laughter.
It is wrong to say it is right.
It is right to whisper
it is wrong today.
COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2017