Saturday, April 28, 2012
A found poem. . . .
I’m a psychopath.
A chair and me float past each other;
I’m going to float off for good this time.
Hooeee. . . I’m tired!
Wait just a shake, honey;
what are these 2 little capsules in here with my
like a bell boy changing in the fog.
Door opening in front of me to the acid
smell of sparks and ozone
oozing across the floor.
A mistake was made in manufacturing
skin like flesh colored enamel zombies
(the whole bunch was crazy loons).
I’m a boogered psychopath.
Source: Kesey, Ken. One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest. Part 1. New York: Signet, 1963. Print.
Posted by Brenda B at 6:08 AM