a poem for today

a poem for today, 16 April 2012
[a word-sorted sonnet of fourteen sentences and its image]
What a death. 
I buy the drugs.
Most importantly, you may wear anything.
That's what I call sneezing in the cabbage.
The fire that danced at the end of that match was a gift from the god Prometheus. 
The dominant form of self-importance these days is mockery.
You have a disease. 
That just proves that it is possible to die of self-respect. 
Perhaps because you've always been a part of Shangri-La without knowing it.
Anatomy is clearly an imaginary facticity.
Everyone avoids me like a cyclone ranger.
They eat scum.
Life is life.

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