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kenpepitonPoems
Suppose, it is a toe, one of your own, hurting like hell, as our culture defines acceptible and unacceptible degrees of pain, hurting like hell, is always something we can live with, once the pain goes away, hell itself being only a feeling fit way to speak of chronic pain, same as, so what; hurting like hell, is always something we can live with, until we die, because there is no cause I can accuse, in good cultured to send such pain to remind a man that time is passing and with that there is always a good measure of senseless pain we never mind, until we take step, unmindful, of that toe.
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Oct 2, 2021
Oct 2, 2021 at 7:16 PM UTC
One wrong step...
Suppose, it is a toe, one of your own, hurting like hell, as our culture defines acceptible and unacceptible degrees of pain, hurting like hell, is always something we can live with, once the pain goes away, hell itself being only a feeling fit way to speak of chronic pain, same as, so what; hurting like hell, is always something we can live with, until we die, because there is no cause I can accuse, in good cultured to send such pain to remind a man that time is passing and with that there is always a good measure of senseless pain we never mind, until we take step, unmindful, of that toe.
I am addicted to testing evil's efforts to dismay, since may is my word, now, I may write silly lines and say Swedenborg thought along this line, where I stubbed my toe
#ouch#pain
kenpepiton
Written by
kenpepiton
77/M/Pine Valley CA
Oct 2, 2021
Oct 2, 2021 at 7:16 PM UTC
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