A Divorce to Rev the Characters up for What’s to Come

Come down from the totality, Jesus, for I am all that is left.
I create the style of a fence without thinking:
How do your gardens grow? It is a flat noise,
Then a peak, then some rhythm using two tools
With a break down: that is my style. No babies though:
Why mess this up? I suppose I am a lot; and why
Would anyone want to feel anything? These things
We cannot ask; but we can at least try getting some attention
While they stare into the distance stunned. Unfortunately
I am already dead—I only agreed the tool was necessary
That time. “Can you remember…” Not now, thanks. And please
Never do that again. Do not assess the…
Shakespeare of what we’ve no control over
As I’ve used it up. I’ve pulled up the ladder. I’m seeing forty.