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To Sean Underwood's previous piece     To Part II

ditch weed
I.

i neglect friends and family
i shun responsibility so i have a
good reason to feel bad about myself
 
i hate phones and the ties that bind 
flapping in the halls of self-placed
frozen despondency 
sizzling in the pan 

i am my own bacon 
i grow a gut for that purpose 
i'm birthing a meal fit for a king
 
modest as Swift’s proposal 
six-pack suckin'  potato eatin' 
oppressed by the tyranny of the self-proclaimed betterment 
that is famine
hand me a potato 

this is what the idea of the learned self 
shares in common with thine grime under mine nails 
my own contradiction
that is famine
hand me an Idol

con't.

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