Mammoth Poem by kevin casey

maybe being found and revered after all these tears,
dying in sticky stuff with, something that creates ashroud of incapacitation, where every one called to dissapears leaving, like a burglar in my downstairs room, i heard the window smash, where am i blooming?
this predation is limited it is some that see me as an ornament a value, i push i run i sleep and defecate, i see you i want you but i am stuck in this sticky stuff you run away you are afraid naturally, so am i,
i would stay with you pull you out see you through,
around my kar is fasination my ghost looks on but there is no song
no mirth, anomilies and similes and smiles down my trunk fortune is grass and being big and not on the menu, to be continued