I'm going to slow down in this one
Reach deep into my smelly lunch box
Where things are slowly
almost imperceptibly
turning

this rotates
faces up at me
in slow denunciation
of now and even
tomorrow
and by degree
turns away

Something to look forward to
Or a wayward Nuance of image
As I ***** for feeling
It's language
And it's ensueing wake
or caper trail

Some physics governs
all this fearsome
theatre
this skittering of logic
before I knew you
after i do

I have found
nothing
sorting time's socks
into neat
piles

to say about that
which terrifies me
line after line
of risk
has me slidin'
down my chair

flight is crawling
my skin
nauseating
stop
stop
stop
I argue

Isn't this

This isn't

what I want

this attention
this attention?
Do I even
Know you

What has connected
this to here
and I need to calm down
this could be the
whole ride


Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis