By coujeaux
Date: 2003 Feb 08
Comment on this Work
[[2003.02.08.07.46.20442]]

Posterioencephalitis

Ah, the glory of clear skies and fresh air, isn't it grand; yes, I see it, don't interrupt,
Now as I was saying before, you could almost see forever; must you be so abrupt?
I wish you would stop butting in on my soliloquy; it's rather lost on an inverted soul,
What do you mean calling me insensitive for ignoring those with heads up that hole?
They've not the sense God gave the ostriches; at least their faces can find the sand,
And I don't agree they're underappreciated contortionists; are you shaking his hand?

Medical science is a wonderous thing; our knowledge grows daily at exponential rates,
But sadly there's a terrible affliction that lies beyond healing, one curse from the fates.
So horrific that people speak of it in hushed tone, avoiding the infected by any means,
A cruel juxtaposition that renders its victims so pretzeled their teeth zipper their jeans.
Not even sunshine manages to find its way; lack of oxygenation means cerebral death,
Could you even imagine where their dinner would begin, and oh my Lord their breath!

Perhaps we should study these curiosities to discover a solution; I believe it's only fair,
The only question I have is whereabout to begin investigation; do we even really care?
I mean, you could take the lead and I could take the rear, but what good would it do?
How in the hell are you supposed to cure stupidity not knowing what end is facing you?
It's time to spread the word about the danger of posterioencephalitis, that foul disease,
Only through education might we prevent it spreading, look out, he's about to sneeze!