caloric energy

I’m surrounded by the screaming of the infirm. 

That’s it. 

I can’t work like this.

Every time I plan something–

  every time I think / he screams.

But I’m grounded by my dreaming of the absurd.

You know what, no.

I lose days on you, 

enduring your abuse: confused 

(to you) as gender-specific 

bullshit decorum, so:

This is not the time for this.

You get it. Let’s talk about this:
So we eat souls.

We just eat them. It’s weird.

It is done in different degrees.

You know, like 

livestock gets turned dead 

and we eat it; there is nothing left.
A plant has seeds 

and gives out breath: 

the soul is -positive- to eat. 
The Murdered Soul makes 

wavelength muddy, 

band-with fuzzy, 

Are we thriving off of calories 

or energy?

Some words feel like food to me.

I sense caloric energy.

And certain sounds, too, 

could feed me like food.
I think we can eat caloric energy.

Many things seem good to me.

If you think about it, 

we eat, drink, smoke, and listen.

These are the ways 

we extract. 

So maybe 

we’re eating the souls of the dead, 

and the energies of sounds 

and not food at all.
Living in a world of caloric energy 

surrounded by the screaming

 and abuse

 of the sane.



copyright: C. Ward 2017

-crickle-bot publishing 


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