i would like it "townsize fry'd," please

i am an other's luck for... another's luck. her
luck for her luck was all i was or would've been
had it been for good...

but it wasn't. it
just wasn't and nothing stops too...
not to listen and... why should i not
lock in knockles too,
knock, till killed, he haunts us.

two people can't move for two.
it's written in a boo. kept inside
of a haunted house
on a haunted hill
in a haunted village
where the only noise is old, crickety noise from old men in rocking chairs that chew their lips until a fester drips to their shirts, their pants, an old floor above where they buried their grandmother and her mother and her grandaughter and her daughter.

and. i'll never live to see my babies. four-eyed and foolish, banging their swollen heads
on a concrete wall
in a concrete city
where the only noise cold. and an old man cricks across the mississippi looking for a craw-dad.

"craw craw" that's what my dad used to say when, late at night, i could hear him finishing off my mom. i love my baby
brother.