Ditto, Ditto A paper left white turns the trunk drunk, gone wasted. That point, tipping thy saber‟s might dies bloodlessly if never tested. By thoughts, the mind orgasmic ghost hunts a seal able— the lead of the one man-act Noli makes face his modern dancer. Open, articulate sound loud, argue, pin down, make noise! Left—listen on „til the eight make sense, grow pairs, deal not with boys! Hand in thy pocket, kneel down on your right pull out the blade—hold it tight. Only the alives cut, then bleed. Die once, then live to succeed. Dictate what makes tomorrow, after today harden this Time you have as clay. Done with lying still; else, sleep tight, gago. Hear instead you say, “Ditto, Ditto.”
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