I’ve been waiting for the world to click into place.
I don’t know what it will sound like,
a tight snap of fingers,
a gun shot,
or the muffled click of a closing door
But I have been told that I will know when I know
In the mean time I devote my eyes and ears to the practice of searching
But when you have a hammer - everything looks like nail
When you have restless hope - everything looks like a sign
I have been waiting for the world to click into place
But I am not a patient person
I have never known how to walk,
my feet fall straight into a desperate sprint,
pounding pavement into gravel
I do not know how to wait
How to hold my aching palm open
To invite the world to place itself inside it
I only know how to rip things open before they unravel
A half formed larvae in a torn cocoon
I have been waiting for the world to click into place
But lately I’ve been wondering.
If this waiting is just another version of the great scam
The pearly gates, the self help books, the monogamy, the diet, the bodies you chase into darkly lit rooms, the idea of goodness and the promise of a you that is better than the current you,
The great scam that promises you eternity when you get there,
but only if you are patient. and if you are good.
But what is death if not staying completely still?
If death is stillness and rotting in place
Then living is flux, hunger, searching
A pale corpse looks peaceful next to a heaving ravaging body, but it is still ******* dead.
Perhaps instead of waiting for the eternal click I can aspire to be - a revolving door
Made to move in circular motion
Clicking and unclicking in and out of place
Still only until I allow the next person through
To move me, to move through me
Jan 18
Jan 18, 2026 at 10:25 AM UTC
I’ve been waiting for the world to click into place.
I don’t know what it will sound like,
a tight snap of fingers,
a gun shot,
or the muffled click of a closing door
But I have been told that I will know when I know
In the mean time I devote my eyes and ears to the practice of searching
But when you have a hammer - everything looks like nail
When you have restless hope - everything looks like a sign
I have been waiting for the world to click into place
But I am not a patient person
I have never known how to walk,
my feet fall straight into a desperate sprint,
pounding pavement into gravel
I do not know how to wait
How to hold my aching palm open
To invite the world to place itself inside it
I only know how to rip things open before they unravel
A half formed larvae in a torn cocoon
I have been waiting for the world to click into place
But lately I’ve been wondering.
If this waiting is just another version of the great scam
The pearly gates, the self help books, the monogamy, the diet, the bodies you chase into darkly lit rooms, the idea of goodness and the promise of a you that is better than the current you,
The great scam that promises you eternity when you get there,
but only if you are patient. and if you are good.
But what is death if not staying completely still?
If death is stillness and rotting in place
Then living is flux, hunger, searching
A pale corpse looks peaceful next to a heaving ravaging body, but it is still ******* dead.
Perhaps instead of waiting for the eternal click I can aspire to be - a revolving door
Made to move in circular motion
Clicking and unclicking in and out of place
Still only until I allow the next person through
To move me, to move through me