Waste Management

This hollow well-worn feeling the next
day, the trunk and limbs unhappy with the fruit,
with non-material desires, thoughts not even
the weight of air, urges not composed of
atoms like a liver or a spleen.  When dead
they disappear without smoke or ash, swim
not in the longest-river bloodstream yet
still they are a poison, can taint going forward,
must be dumped somewhere.  How about
into the psyche, to be burped up and
(hopefully) dealt with as dreams, the only
chance we have to banish invisible wishes.