Reply to the Poem I Never Read

don't you see that when you act
crazy
it doesn't matter how many grains of truth
fall from your lips
like crumbs of bread?
they slip through my hands
like grains of sand
when you act crazy. it's like you're
dead.
so if you want to scream at me, scream
yourself a higher hoarse because
the source of your action is losing traction.
you're the captain of a norse vessel
clad in bearskin with no need for psilocybin
and it fills me with remorse

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