Poking at my Retina

Poking at my Retina: by Sean Roper:

Dots and dots to embellish my grueling ambiguity
a soft rain of ink that my sense of acute empathy
drives me to write poetry like my habitual promiscuity
turning back to the ink only to discover my insanity
as the paper still just only has 600,000 dots to go.

those little circles black like
the paper had been near a fire
of falling ash. Ambidextrous hands
could still not finish this any faster on a sober mind.
Pointless it is 100 times faster to paint and
it looks 1000 times better.
Make pizza and drink you only have 599,999 to go.

stippling my skull I am lost to my own humility
of black circles on paper that make a catastrophe
on my paper with ink and ink and ink losing my humanity
to ink and dots called organized calamity.
Play with the cat you only 599,998.5 to go.

oh tiny dots burning my retina
filling my neurons with tiny infectious black dots
making me laugh at random moments
Once in the boredom and quiet I was frozen
by the intense ringing in my
ear and like a sneeze I twitch and
I only have 600,001 to go