it’s like
the clock is still working
but the gears are no longer turning
i’m burning up on empty
fuel
dripping,
leaking,
no longer capable of containing
contemplations too volatile
for proper taming,
and so i’m just… resting.
a dormant chamber of magma
underneath the bedrock is often
due for massive explosion
but i never liked being out of control
and the last thing i need are
for my insides to get torn open.
a tree bearing great fruits
brilliantly disguised to hide its
reckless disharmonious motion.
That is fear speaking.
Apprehension.
Avoiding the waves because
what follows next is spinning
down through the vortex**
violently into uncharted oceans.
