I haven't really taken time to think,
but the truth flashes before me like lights
that are blinking when the streets are a sink,
holding the used glassware of unwashed nights:
You pull the plug to drain the water out,
but there's a kernel of corn in the drain,
which means it all flows down–there is no doubt–
but this flooded corn represents your brain:
Are you on drugs or loaded? Rich or high?
Righteous or rictus? Is this grain for food?
Or is it for swollness? The sink the sky?
What is birdseed if not the highest good?
So many questions to answer…I fall
asleep, while standing firm, while standing tall.

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