writing poetry in the back of quantitative methods
I don't want to get too metaphysical
can we?
the abstract is where I left my bags
I can't find my way back
there are no entryways, no guides
sometimes the trees or the colors tease
but they fall flat backward, a standing set piece
nothing for me to reach my arms into
i used to be up to my elbows
the architecture was screaming
my teachers sang in class, cried through the lessons
everything moved in speech
now I never reach the action potential
the environment slightly inflates but I do not take off
too grounded, to real, too fixated on things that are surface
I want to fly and I want to drown
to be in the thick and fight my way onto paper
to feel in metaphors and abstractions
for now, i will run an analysis of variance
and go to sleep, indefinitely