a poem for today

a poem for today, 1 April 2012
[a letter sorted sonnet of eight sentences and its image]
I’d left a note. 
An isolated sentence - aphoristic, not fragmentary - tends to reverberate like an oracular utterance having the self-sufficiency of a communication to which nothing need be added.
Initiate intimate self-destruct sequence.
Patience fucking do it.
They cannot see that, in the egoistic pursuit of having as a possessing class, they suffocate in their own possessions and no longer are: they merely have.
I thought so too. 
So I do what I can to try to draw attention to things, to help people realize what’s going on in the hidden rooms of our house.
You killed me first.

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