Actually

I had made it
Formed from the blood of my own thoughts
I held it
And debated it uses.
The way a lady can look at a placenta
And wonder what else
What else could I do with this
Mess
Bloody
Tangle
Of organic circuitry
A facial
A meal
A special place
In your womb bitch
Where I hung my hat.

I read that the number 6
Even as she seems
would be the devil
And my countdown wouldn't last
as long as hoped
Or expected.

She asked me what I read
Anyways
Irregardless
Of what I had studied
And practiced
Complete disregard for my extensive knowledge
In the fine areas of alcohol consumption
Amd cheap trickin...

She wanted to know what I had read
So I showed her it
Illegible as blood vessels tend to be
My copy of final call
The tabloid section of the post and
An old outdated book by rollo may
About why we do as we do...
She ate it all up.
Every loving spoonful.

Nobody could tell

Nobody ever knew because
the kid couldn't tell
Couldn't dare to mention
All he wanted from life was his teeth
Not the fame
Not the notoriety
As the kid kid candy freak
Back in the precandy freak glory days
Shiny white placards
That beamed responsibility across a room
Or screamed
I am ready
Confident
Optimistic
And taken care of
Like tiny white cue cards
That people would look into your mouth
And read good things about the nice
Brown skin boy
Where he's been
Who he will be
And why nobody has taken care of him
Why he never took care of them
Or why he never wanted them
In the first place