griseous risibility (the shrinkage of me, the hard way)


of course you're clueless
what the hll this means,
well, let your own fingers do
the pressing, cut & pasting,
my version, is the mockery
of me who grows grayer
daily, in every place, even
in the oddities where your
eyes cannot go, fingers can't
swipe, nor touche caresse,
alas, when I tell you, it's felt
in the tightening of the belt,
the squeezing of the vigor,
pressure on the mental vim

hiding under bed, doesn't
help the head, in fact, hesitate,
when you anticipate the congress
of neighbors called to get me
our from underneath, me, laughing
stock, the only stock I own that's
actually going up, yield to the
overwhelming defeat by the
totality grayness becoming
what's left of my shriveling self

cuddle, stroke pat & pet
what's left, of my disappearing
existential  marking of the spot,
in this ha! expanding uni-verse
of the shrinkage of me…
the hard way