You would seem
So far away,
So old and gray
From me astray
Estranged in nightly,
Out of sightly
Slightly differing decay
Complacent discontent
Is swept
Under delusions
Wanting more,
What more perfections,
Burning questions
Could you possibly
Need answers for?
Is no
Togetherness
Of us
Enough to turn our bones
To dust
What must
Befall
Before it’s just
All future ideation
Hushed

Mixing the signals
Conflating attraction
With courtesy’s
Chemical
Overreaction
Unwanted attention,
Unflattering flex,
The presumptuous
Ego-dystonic
Wants ***
Nothing less,
Nothing more
Than to finish before
Recollections
Of dignity
Up off the floor
Or reflections
On mirrors
Preparing to split
Personalities
Rift,
We’re just not
Intuit

What if love
Was just fragments
Mere figments
Imagined
What draws bodies close
To embracing
Impassioned
Would tragic
Just typify
How it concludes
We confuse its temptation  
With swinging of moods
Could illusions
Enamor you
More than a kiss
What possessive delusions
Compel us to this
Missing piece,
Wishing more,
Holding dear,
Longing for
Bore the weight of its loss
Like misplacing one’s mind
And therein
It shall stay
It’s in one
We must find

Ghosts of my own
Shadows passing
From past mistakes
Drove a stake
Straight
Into remnants of fate
And erased every mark
That I made on this place
Pearly gates
I’ve been pounding on
Just empty space

So it’s back to the study
Of tending to legacy
How and why
Man persists
Writing his history

Down in the rabid
Whole world
Gone to war
Down in dumps
Of lined-pockets
That buy and sell more
Down beneath the extinction
Clockwork
Agent Orange
Down furthermore still
In its cluster bomb
Torrent

So back to the study I go
Tending legacy
Soon I will know
How and why
I write history

Barely an enemy
Faced on the front
But the one in the mirror
Undaunted confront
For we go to our graves
Free to liberate slaves
But we settle
For personal,
Tribal enclaves
Just a trivial anecdote
Lost in dilution
Delusions of
Sought after
Final solution

So back to the study we must
Tend to legacy
Soldier on
King and pawn
Written in history

Whatever I don’t use
Becomes the gloomy
World away
Electrify
Entire nations
At the standard
Rate of pay
For what remains
Of degradation
Is the only thing that matters
Only flag I’d sooner wave
Before reducing it to tatters
Silver platters
And the scraps upon
Could fill my empty bowl
But some primeval,
Greater evil
Is devouring me
Whole
For I cannot be in control
Of cultivating
Innovation
I cannot feed all the people
Empty promises
Salvation
Merely offer
But a morsel
Of my hunger
To fulfill
What a good meal
Among the rest of us
Collectively
Could steal

Living in
Transition years
Converting to
Transmission gears
I fear we are
Becoming death
Becoming
Less
Autonomous
Peacekeeping mess
Intent
To save
Content
With content’s
Shallow grave
Amassing
Mass extinction
Wealth
Relapse
Environmental health
Collapsing edifices
Fall
Behind the mask
Broadcasts
A pall
And after all we’ve built
To last
Somewhere along
The system crashed
So now we either
Disconnect
Entirely
Or redirect
The tech,
The mecha-
Intellect
Unto a course-corrected
Flesh

More passer
Than dribbler
The scritch and scratch
Scribbler
My flow is a river
In come what May
Winters
I swim in the shiver
And even in bloom
All my numinous
Withers
My luminous
Gloom
Still obscured
To the witness
My freakiest nature
Survivalist
Fitness
A wishlist
Of ashes
Compassion
Impulse
And with tact
My collapsing
Synapses
Convulse