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Hank Helman Nov 2020
The tip,your taste on tempted tongue,
The haste, the hover, the hungry one.
I live, I last, I love, lament,
I walk and wonder where our love went.
Do we feel anymore or do we simulate. Are we prepping for bot-love?
it’s november when
the meds kick in, it’s
december when i feel
human again. (or maybe,
for the first time?)

i lack less.
found an appreciation
for something or another
dug up in the front yard
by a half-blind dog.
appreciation for
the living
and the

i used to know empathy,
used to take her hands
between mine in
cut scenes
but those were
   trembling eras
    of seconds,
    caught between
  an intensity i’ve since
        given     away.

an inferno.

of being
in love
grass bet-

last bit
of clouds
eating sun
like nectar
in the rearview:

or sweet talking
directly into his eyes
at midnight, hearing
a smile in the smoke
that separates our

cats with twigs
and dirt swimming
in their bellies.
ghosts in the
woods beyond
my car,
yowling at
the full moon
as if they
were born

i now know
the silence and
warmth of

i exist alongside
unfamiliar calm,
a quaint silence
that does not
burn at the


the world is
almost softer
                       lighter   --

my skin is
held to-


i wonder
if i was
the whole
re-wrote a poem i wrote half a year ago, i'm turning it in for a poetry class portfolio. honestly im gonna edit it again but this is the first edit for now. if i change anything major i'll probably put it here and edit it or maybe rework entirely.  who knows~~~
clever Feb 2019
getting high without you isn't even getting high,
just feeling down because i know i'm at my lowest point.
but two wrongs made a right. at least for a little while.
Mach my words, that time travel aye
foresee (rather than being
     at a stand still, nee frozen
     analogous to cry

oh ja hen nicks, or more particularly
     going backwards)
     this chap doth espy
great breakthroughs,

     asper similar advances this guy
   i.e. myself witnesses quantum leaps I
learn (reading The University Of Penn Gazette)
     the Burmese doctoral
     engineering student Kai
     Sir Von Wilhelm Harris

     made profound advances within
     advanced combined research
     laboratory of rocket surgery
     and brain science set my
mouth ajar
     (with rivulets of drool spilling forth)

constructing a simple
     to assemble gizmo (avail able
common household materials
     rendered unto YouTube), and/or Cable

Comcast, Fios, Infosys, et cetera
     which accidental discovery
     automatically codified feign
     top secret "FAKE" news to enable
boot (simply for formality sake)
     code named Clark Gable
yet in reality (a faux veil of secrecy)
     to con Vince sing lee

     foster an inimitable
mystique, button truth
     for general public to unzip noble
     no red bull) knowable

handy escape to past or future
     and essentially unlocked laudable
simple "household solution"
     to become the latest craze

     (synonymous with an ****** - manageable
minus addiction, conviction,
     and excruciation viz zit operable
via needle marks of the masses

     within a fortnight necessary
     supplies sans quantifiable
while Das Donald Trump
     could enact legislation satisfiable

knowing majority being
     totally tubularly oblivious unalterable
measures permanently infringing on inalienable
     rights such as life, liberty
     and the pursuit of winnable pacification.
literary food for thought.
Self Mutilation
(ah bet thar iz an app for that!)
within unlit partial "FAKE abattoir"
   sans wardrobe alcove
   where dust bunnies didst allures
completing a simple task among
   my never ending (Matthew's) list
   of domestic chores

this undertaking engaged
   thankfully while completely clothed,
   and scrounging on all fours
nonchalantly picking up scattered detritus
   including food crumbs

   potential critters hors d'oeuvres
the spouse (ideally seated
   on this same swivel chair
   dashing off these lines

   linkedin with this Macbook Pro) -
   housing at least four scores
of word documents, she espied
   the cheeky opportunity
   that triggered many wars

within arms length the taut outline
   of me 'lil derriere - re: rear end
temporarily dormant versus
   when flatulence roars -

   posterior flank hie
   could not de fend
she playfully poked her finger
   that didst dis send
   within close vicinity of sphincter,
   where ****** turgid business height tend

(most likely this husband not alone
   getting ***** twerked) inn me own coal
less cents great movements got made
   jabbing ma *******

   while i happened
   to be "blindly" groping
   upon darkly cutout cubby hole
i.e. without wearing bifocals/ spectacles -

   envision a human mole
thus amply qualified her role
to be literal and figurative
   pain in the *** vole,

where much to my horror a flash
of red hot poker blind
   momentary rage, did lash
out at me, when aye espied

   a kitchen knife and acted rash
(how cutlery got in closet floor
   a minor mystery
   and potential topic de jure

   for another poem)
   to brandish sharp edge
   around abdominal area
grabbed handle with left hand,
   thence commenced to slash

rhythmically thwacking
   wrist of right hand
then quickly dropped sharp implement
(as like a man momentarily possessed)
   before rendering permanent harm
   with a river of blood to wash.
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