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Poetry of Issue #8        Page 58

Crowned Disease

shit happens
when we wield toilet paper
packages bundling so smooth
secure
nothing bad happens in loads of 40 right?

we cling to small scraps of destructible paper
it’s ours while people breathe
and make contact
and die
toilet paper is all you need, fuck love

and a man in a crown laughs
touching mouths and noses
while watching arms flailing, toilet paper pounding floors
people defending their divine right to avoid death
I have a child. That’s ten points over you, single lady

I deserve. I need, I’m a hemophiliac leper
the crowned man walks on
laughing
no one stops him
where is he going?

  Yash Seyedbagheri