AUTOPSYCHOGRAPHY

AUTOPSYCHOGRAPHY

The poet is a pretender

Pretend so completely

That even pretends to be pain

The pain that he really feels.

And those who read what they write,

In pain deals they feel good,

Not the two he had,

But only to what they do not have.

And so on the wheel rails

Cute, entertaining reason,

This rope train

It's called the heart.