The poem that remains unpubished

Poem number 25

Now the end and my mind
has emptied itself. frankincense (Sinatra songs no more will
the end) is near and so I face the venal curtain. reverberate through the random pathways of the skull be neat skill, beneath the blood between the cortex cerebellum. it might be called not that I care I want to be done.
Referee, get on with the nothingness; I cherish the word that is (used).
more pop songs learned in eighths grade. never guava when I try to make them go away all they do is hove back like dragnonflied blue birds.