I got hurt and bled, dabbed it with a rag then posted that sog in an alleyway. Someone walks by and looks this way. They all see that diagram monotonous and laden with venous energy absorbing the ether becoming aware, thoughtful in synergy. It’s your house I carry on my shoulders I fondly call it memory and make it a permanent reminder by engraving it as poetry They call me a poet while I just talk. Habits I got hurt and bled, dabbed it with a rag then posted that sog in an alleyway Someone walks by and looks this way. They all see that diagram