It happens at once
and sometimes in stages.

In days and months
and sometimes in ages.

In distant lands
and the strangest of places

Touches your hand
then leaves with no traces.

Fortune is but
a foul mistress

that favors the brave
and deserts the shitless.

Under a rock
In the messiest river
You have given me
A power jam

It is red
And shiney
And it burns
With passion

If you hold it closely
You'd see the cracks
And feel the endless vibration
I always think it might break

But the red rock keeps it's structure
For every time I tried it
It has yet to fail me
It has shown me new lenghts

I am terrified it might fall into little pieces
One day
But as you promised
It always held together

i bought a chair
that i thought was
exactly
what i was looking for
exactly
what i needed

the style
           the shape
                        the colour
ergonomic perfection

that something so simple
could align with
my needs
my wants;
i was surprised
i admit
it caught me off guard

but in time
the comfort i thought
i had found
was found wanting
dissipated

adjustments were made
and support toyed with
plumped up
or reduced
as seemed necessary
only to achieve
further discomfort
and anger

perhaps this desire
(or desperation)
to find
an idea of perfection
dulled my senses
forced
what did not truly fit

i have now spent
more time
seated
upon the floor
considering a replacement;
unable to commit
to discarding
this imperfect throne

i have no confidence
in finding anything better
and will likely continue
second guessing myself
as i second guess myself

we are the cat
that is both
alive
       and
            dead
but this box
is too small
there is not room
in this state of flux

one way
or
another
a truth
must be established;
either
open the box
to see for certain
or accept
what you believe
could be true

bury the box
forget the alternative
move beyond
the internal
       eternal
dissonance