Everything Too Much

Wow, look at those
Hands; I took the
Larger half of the pill and
Mixed and matched and
Time drifted past like
Diesel smog

Bump on a log

Frog on a log
Croaking at the night
My hands don’t feel right

But they did on the
Pick and the neck
Falsetto hush whispers

“I’ll bring the cheap vodka”

My hands don’t feel right
I am feeling
Everything too much

My crooked jaw never sits
Quite right anymore, permanent
Grimace, too aware,

Back in my body, and
The asses march one way,
The elephants, another

Crooked, bent, painful
Impatience