the orange on the wall i have forgotten

Writing a letter and the sun and penicillin on the table in the kitchen an evening after. Eyeballs from the evening before: purple tacky rings, the vinyl table cloth i recall our conversation. Laughing more.

and u saw a brown bottle drunk, green bottle drunk, clear bottle, bottle drunk.. . inside a_a genius i am. u haven’t yet seen me write like this or this, these bottles now good for change, nor read this poem, SILENCE, telephones understand.
u hear it.
i you. it.

25 people came to talk to me with their grief collected.
where were you
we were worried
27 more in the living room 2 no doubt in the bath
so nice to see you smile
so nice to see you
so nice

(isn’t my apartment clean enough for you_i’m surprised you found your way, you haven’t visited me in years_am i not clean and shaven, gainfully employed and writing…again_no_to begin again_i’ve been writing_the same of you all recognize me
look all surprised_why_you’ve seen me before, come on, u no me)

if the truth be told
it is exactly the orange that I have forgotten.
Why I threw it at__and you back at__.

precisely the orange forgotten. Yes I am surprised. u aren’t here with the usual others. i am writing now. No. writing, to begin again. u will remember as did the many because it has happened before and when u knew me and my colours and bottles and sometimes
it wasn’t your fault
it wasn’t your fault

u remember_last time it was an apple the time before a fresh loaf, thatdidn’thurt. So hated laughter.

the apple the freshbread the orange ihaveforgotten
these nights i write so as to drink more coffee,
so that it won’t happen again.

a fresh loaf of bread.

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