I.


Three
Days
I thought
Of you
While
Staring at
A field
When
I saw
A cow
I thought of you
When I saw
A duck
I thought of you
But
When
I saw
A camel
Dead
On the side
Of the road
I did not
Think
Of you
Then



II.


Turns
Out
I am
A
Destruction
Machine
I have
No
Sense
I have
No
Relationship
With
The sun
I am
Sealed
Off
It is
Totally
Abstract



III.


There is
Nothing
In my
Brain
But porn
And
Cartoons
I want
To see
What’s
Going
On
In
The
Form of
A haughty
Butthole
Mouth
Frankly
The stars
Bore me
Constellations
Bores me
And
The dead
I don’t
Want
To know
What
They
Think



IV.


I am
Alive
For
Very
Stupid
Reasons
And
I am
Of that
Tradition
I want
Vengeance
On
An
Unfeeling
Planet
Dragged in
Like
A tortured
Body
The sun
Would simply
Raise
Its ass
Waiting
To be
Fucked



V.


Because of
A black
Hole
Anything
Might
Fall into
The days
Are
More or less
Bitter
The days
Are
Full
Of
Love
And hideous
I lay
Down
Having had
All there was
And
Quite
Enough

══════════════════
Laura Theobald is the author of Kokomo (Disorder Press) and What My Hair Says About You (Metatron) plus three chapbooks. She’s a PhD candidate in creative writing at UGA in Athens. https://lauratheobald.tumblr.com.

*Image credit: Louise Bourgeois, From ‘He Disappeared into Complete Silence’, 1947