There are little pieces of yourself on the kitchen counter.
You find it in your soul to blink and look away,
wiring it all in writing for posterity,
because ink can draw outlines, maybe a little piece of you
will float back.
part of you hopes not,
as if there were
one thing you promised
you'd never do.
the capitol is burning .
the capital is burning .
always offer a second option,
and be willing to fill the will of the optics
*** sometimes deep behind your
eyes you can feel eruptions of meaning, and beauty
of all past, present, and future
tenses spoken like tennis into a word we're all still computing,
post truth is an acute definition in the face of
Silicon Valley rising to a mountain without might,
something designed to sooner or rather than later erupt in a sight
of obvious devastation, tragedy, and existential
awareness and insight on the brevity
and obscurity of human infatuation with
their own genealogy, insights,
or winked eyes replaced in inked lines to
maintain a certain secrecy,
the answer being nothing in particular,
"Curiosity killed the cat."
What this really means
at a certain point of investigation,
I imagine a sign in my mind counting the days since my last seizure as if my body were a worksite.
Hurts to think about, but what doesn't these days?
Trump tells the Proud Boys to "stand back and stand by, but I'll tell you what, somebody's got to do something about antifa and the left." Sounds like ****** to me, just much less articulate and with much less to lose (you heard about his four-hundred million dollar debt, right?)
What a wild generation it's happened to be. I think we all eventually saw it coming, but held it off as apparently impossible like an unlikely apocalypse.
Why can't I cold turkey the liquor? I have no money left to spend, yet I act like I do. Champagne diet on a 'wage' that can only afford water. I'm an idiot in my own ways, just like you.
sometimes, I just want
until I'm nothing
but if it were doom,
would the lights not go out?
would all electricity not freeze in its sockets?
would the thought of future ambition
not simply choke you to death
from the inside-out?