i have looked at the lamplights across the city
and wondered what sorts of things might
be happening over there
with clinking and motorcycles speeding forth
and animated blue-light conversations
Faith is like paper, and knowledge is leather
and wisdom is plywood although it seems
this whatever-of-a-knife has redoubled its efforts
and seems more-like-a-saw
forgive me if i am a blimp
Whatever midsleep scenarios have been
playing out, are now destroyed by
the conscious... was it beanpods?
Greensnakes? Silver dollars in my pockets?
Driving around with best friends long forgotten?
Crystal clear rivers and skinnydipping
with glances of admiration given and received?
candy? The oddness and delight of
foreign landses? Grand liberation?
I think them all on and off for a bit-
nothing fits, nothing is as good as
the it-ness that it was being
Back to plastic rolling and fluorescent
tubed halls, the everpresence of mortality
ad nauseum, my feet hot and sore
plump
a checkmark in every box
a task in every hour
a needle in every vein
each number followed
by the next
Superpower of concentration of
mindpower is mine-power yet
i think as a zombie
pushed around by unseen forces
propped up
by nothing at all
Involucratus involuntarii
No comments:
Post a Comment