I can feel myself falling with the I of myself trying
To hold on and I'm here Keats
I'm here Woolf just let me be with you here
Camus and Calvino
Dear Arthur and Wharton and Campbell and Rooney,
Please hear me as
All possibility is fleeting,
Running towards an imaginary Jesus
Though I know there is no savior

Other than honoring repetition.

Today is the day
Of the same old human equation
The same old outcome
The same old return from the return

Can you imagine
Knowing how trapped you are
In this human body
Human mind

And using
Art and all its distractions

In n Out

As the only way
You can communicate
To mostly deaf, ignorant ears

For help
For help

God help

A plea
Followed by
An answer
That will never come.