pig from plastic

i am alter

stuck inside, no-

trapped inside, no-

resident loon, prisoner to

Home Head, our gracious and patient skull.

there are six of us in here, but not

all of us are poets.

some play violin

some play poker

some play paintball with real bullets.

i am the one

who brings problems

to the rest-- - --because people do not

like me, they do not like the way

i say hallelujah

while punching ghosts

and screaming at my alter outline.

i have mad issues

and my shrink says to keep writing

words down in the order they appear,

cuz its the only way

to fully root out

the pig from the plastic.