If I said I’m living terminal,
you’d guess I was flying high,
but the poison bleaches my skin
and I feel death, by and bye.
Starches and scratches
are the only things going down
because my pain makes by hands
fierce. My health is going down.
Left wrong in all rights,
all right in all wrongs,
my short comings live short,
no life to live to live long.


One thought on “Terminal

  1. Nolan, this is another one out of the park! I hope we are talking metaphor here, ‘if you said you were dying’…

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