Fried

I’m nuts, framed by cuckoo a

bird.  They put a cuckoo clock

inside my forehead, so every

hour a bird pops out of my worry

lines, scares the shit out of my cat,

and reminds me of my amended

mental status.  It’s terrible to have

been sane, no pane, when everyone

sees that you’re not sick, but swell. Now

with this clock inside my forehead and

a beak courtesy of beak surgeons, I

look disturbed. Crazy, I feel more human

then ever before, besides are not the

bastards who changed my appearance

not the sick ones?  Shouldn’t someone

shrink their twisted noggins? I learned

to live with my idiosyncrasies.  But I scare

the shit out of the “people” who made me

this way.  Cuckoo! Cuckoo!