the golden rule

fingers had commited
murder across the keys.
my blood turned jelly
and lodged itself
around phrases,words.
i was not certain
how i had gotten here:
to the chair,the radio….
it all seemed to be
waiting patiently.
the great hammer
was furious.
it had knocked imprints
into the seams of my
fingernails,
and padded swirls
along ten bottoms
rubbed away each letter,
one at a time.
i had been hungrey
for thee days.
and i thought too much
about the bad things,
the things that make
our backs hurt
and our muscles squeek.
the golden rule
was always the same:
never rush the last line.
 
undated
copywrite:jeremy szuder

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