His notion for all this
Commotional,
Sappy, emotional
Dribble and spit,
Bargain-quality ****
Is just catharsis, a
Comical, slightly
Sardonic carnival
Of what it is to be
A man alone, loosely
Wearing his bones with
His heart on his sleeve,
Which is ripped and hanging
From a stick, declaring
His foolish little wish
On which he clings,
Desperately.

It may be fate's cold dish,
Either way, he's sinking