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Mar 2021
The distraction machine, our plastic dream, sew last seam through bottom lip
Tipped off of ship, sheet bound tissue is ripped, living form clipped to fish food
Always in a bad mood, waiting on the never happens, inevitabilities stacking
Reef wrapping around your sea urchin heart, leaping off cliffs with no running start
Failure practiced as art, life pushed around in a cart, walking on rusty needles and darts
Hate wheedles silently into our hearts, once that ice starts it keeps spreading
Look at where we're heading, treading ever closer to the chasm's drop
Brain stops with the thought, caught in the dark and you must move across
Ever conscious of where the next step might toss you, tumble and humble and break you
Escaping will make you take two, reflect, we're all subject to the same strain
Fear is a head game that even the sane can't contain, one must simply maintain
We think things are tame, but beyond the flame, eyes strain from a loud darkness
Patrick Kennon
Written by
Patrick Kennon  33/M/x
(33/M/x)   
107
   Bogdan Dragos
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