But what does it matter
Just climbing the ladder
And taking the chutes
Down in cyclical
Rhythm
Reliving reboots
Just as lacking in luster
As any film screen
Just attempting to find
The right priced
Magic bean
But get swindled and conned
By my own
Inner monologue
Clogging up space
With my brain in a vat
And my memory erased
Just in case
She appears in its
Crash and burn wake
And then any fresh start
Is another heartbreak