content
matters
They say the asleep,
The sleeples,
Ghosts,
All spirits,
visit me at night.
That I get to speak with them.
That they tip me on;
who or,
who not to trust.
The truth is,
I haven’t spoken to any of them.
Don’t know any of them and,
Don’t know how they’ll react—
when I do get to talk to them.
As a result,
Some people think that I’m an open
book page.
I don’t know which page number I’m.
I don’t even care because,
I f I had to be a book,
I’ll be one with rugged covers,
One which is hot plates and cups,
Is placed on.
The one poor in human form,
The one which doesn’t wear clothes but,
Rags.
Because it isn’t what’s on the outside—
that which matters but,
Content on the inside.
