Some people just drink it all away,
and sure you can misfire but we all die sooner or later.
This is a small part of an ongoing stand up routine
that ends in personal self destruction. I’ll continue.
I am my own voice, and I consume that which
over time has become redundant in uselessness.
I stand horizontally between two extremes;
Somewhere between “not quite invincible”
and “rancid with mortality”. Conscious effort,
and I play the fool who reasons with serpents
by keeping no literal distance.
A shape into itself. No thread in the needle’s eye.
A cloud that eats clouds.
A saint to anyone that would worship in a mirror.