I Am A Ball Of It Poem by Hubert J. Humperdink

I’m feelin sick
As I step out

Onto the street
The music helps

But I am all of it
I’m a ball of it

I am homicidal
So sad I am sick

My stomach as hollow
As eyes catchin

My glance
And she said ‘you’re

Goin and gone”
And she’s right

I got no worries
Now’s the time for

Yellow-green melancholy’s
To dream of questions of

Love, of dreams
Of death and travel

Twitching and singin maniacally
As abstract and youthful things

I am in abundance
And happy

I am Oedipus’ last sight
I am all of it

I am a ball of it