Living at the BOTTOM of the FOOD CHAINS here, translated…
Last Night’s Dreams Were Still, Colorless, Mottled, Incomplete
Broken, Like How Your Own Saliva Flew Out from Your Mouth When You’d Talked, Toward an
Erect, Fifty-Year-Old Brass Statue, Making Your Speech,
As You’re Too Worked Up, Dissatisfied & Wanting to Cry, You Feel that Immense Sense of Hunger
And Saw a Rice Ball, and Chinese Buns Falling Down, Then, You Woke in Shock
That Owl that’s Called All Through the Night Still Hadn’t
Caught a Mouse Yet
On This Mountain, There Were Still the Flying Squirrels, the Squirrels, Fighting for the Limited Resources of
Nuts and Fresh Leaves, and, Their Same Kinds are Also Calling Out, in Search of Mates, They Settled
Between the Owls and the Bats, Between the Maples and Sycamores
Becomg Half a Bird, with Their Legs Clenched Tight Together
Outside the Windows of This Old Apartment on the Mountains, the
Clouds visited from Time to Time
Like Toothbrushes, Brushing Up Against that Rusty White Mountainside
Don’t Matter Where I Lived, I’d Always Taken Along that Toothbrush
This Morn, as I Brushed, I Saw Some Blood
My Periodontal Disease was Back Again, This Rusty Bottom Half of My Life, Not Healthy at All
I’d Needed, to Keep Warning Myself, But, I saw, from Out of the Pipes Connecting to My Wash Basin
Crawled Out a Baby Roach, Washed Down with the Antiseptic Mouthwash
Climbed Back Up Again, This Blind and Stubborn Offspring of the Roach
I’d Left, for Only Just a Month, without the Food Remains from My Teeth Entering into the Drains
And He’d Climbed Back Up, Begging Me for Food
I Too, Was Trying to Make a Living, Although I’d Only Gone Half-Way
I’d Fought Really Hard, and Persisted on Not Taking the Handouts from Anybody Else, that, Was When I Got Sent Back Here Again
This Was a Pathology of Being a Clean and Neat Freak
Like in That Spotted Dream, the Feelings of Hunger Weren’t Real
Like How Shadows Kept Asking the Other Shadows, When, Do We, Really Get Warned of to Change Our Lifestyles
So, this, is someone, who’s on her/his way to change, but, there’s not enough of a catalyst, to make the narrator change yet, and so, the narrator is just going to, keep on living in this vicious cycle of her/his own same behaviors, getting STUCK toward the bottom, wanting to move up, but couldn’t, it’s, an AWFUL place to be in!