This is a poem.
One metaphor short of a nobel prize
A brick wall to hit your unsophisticated head against
An arrow darting across a souvenir t-shirt: I'm with stupid
One brow so high it tickles the feet of angels, who snort mirthfully through clenched noses
Dense has a double-meaning these days, and you're one of them
And this poem's the other; unpack it like a Friday night punch
At your own expense, or your own leisure or your own
Risk falling through the unspoken
Words.
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