heartmaw set
on edge,
again -

this silly
little head
never seems to rest.

that muscle jus below the breastbone
will get the job done.

it fiends
the headfeed.

awkward holes of
black slowclap,
bentcrouched underneath the seat
of what's left -

yet little small events are there, always (a)waiting
over the tiny, unlit horizon
of thoughtstream eddy screams.

(choice is coy ---
it's sorta yours, except when its not)

eat the emote.
masticate the fury.
break down the snowstatic.
it's unyum, sure,

but,
jus listen,

and
at the
bottom

of the hole
you will
hear the bowl
hum and sing.

lit
space

so light

it will blind
you to
the abundant bads
that has
shot through,
replacing it with
hot shade truer.

it will
let you
defy
and
be

utter space.

tachyphylaxis - tach·y·phy·lax·is (tāk'ə-fĭ-lāk'sĭs)  n.
1.    A rapidly decreasing response to pleasure following initial administration.

I didn’t know this
demon had a name.
Ugly as it is it fits,
a random mish-mash
of unpleasant sounds
and equal unpleasantness
felt.

I’ve known the *******
forever, manifest in vitamin cures
and psychological processes,
SSRI’s and stabilizers.

He attends to the end of
affectionate loving and all
the designer vacations
you've ever taken.

He is the golden handcuffs of
square foot home ownership
and his business cards are
set in silver.

To put it bluntly
his continuous presence
is intent on destruction
of any contentment.

He is all things along the way
that appear so promising at first
but never last.

Synonymous with tolerance,
antonymous with precedence,


the antagonistic leaven of all living.