An
c
u
r
StateMent                 H
e       a                 Making
d       r           T    e     s
         Through    a     t
         y        Melancholy
         r            s    s     r
         i            e           You'Re
         z                                i
         e                                s
         d                               k
                                           i       R
                                        Another
                                           g      a
                                                   d
Of.

when I die
I will decompose
and be made
into something alive

I am living
made out of
decomposed bits
of dead things.

is anything ever really dead?
is anything ever really alive?

I don't know.

but my heart beats
and the earth breathes
just the same.

Think, think, think
Still not a drop of ink
The page lies bare,
As does my stare
Indifferent and dull
My mind has nothing to mull
Only the wish to write,
Not a thought in sight

Sometimes,
I write these when somethings on my mind.
Most times,
I write these when nothings on my mind at all.

My dog can't see,
He goes under the table and paws at me.
Asking me to pet him, which I do.
But how does he know,
What hand is petting him if he can't see?

I sorry,
I turn on brain.
Me no think.
Think make you go away.

I like to lie on

the floor, thinking, with a book --


upon my stomach.