I am something that only goes one way,
Waiting for reuptake
Staring out the window
The door is in view but the will is not present.

I see a narrow infinity,
Blind to myself
I smell spent gunpowder in between my toes.

In the waiting I paradoxically realize I am already dead,
A crazy thought, a snag in the stream
A false supposition
A mind struggling with itself

We draw cartoons around the sinkhole in our brains until we can't.

And it is one sinkhole, one magnet to which we are all pulled.

(But I think tectonic activity must affect the universal constants,
And I think anything could be,
And not even the forces that mean death should be able to last forever,
And I think somewhere else a human could live forever
but not here where we live,
Because everything must be negated eventually.
It would exist far outside this dimensional order.)

I am limited to this, I pierced exactly once
And everything at the same time
Still I am limp and stupid
Inept and sillyminded
Small and withering
Waiting to act,
Inhibited