The pain of a dyspeptic diabetic interlude swing-song sway-on down the cruise to the river colluding with my mother’s–WENCH she was–last living brother

No jovial touch-down on this beach or that planet

Just juggling apples and twiddling thumbs as cataracts build in my middle school mathematics teacher’s eyes

She had surgery and told us

No, she didn’t lose her eyeballs out of ‘r eye sockets

Like a zombie

But I did attend Math Club

And it was just riddles

He, the brother, told me not to go too hard on my own

For they are your last

Psycho freak he is, I had to trust him

For once he was soft-spoken

My insulin comes in packs

They don’t mail it one at a time

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