The illusionist drawls,
"Choose wisely", fanning his cards,
and she, eyeing Five of Cups,
POPS her bubblegum, chooses
"You", deciding that the imp
who claims he's not an archetype
is merely the reversed Hermit.

I've fallen asleep before
with a record on repeat
aiming, somewhere between
half and whole heartedly,
to control my swirling feelings--
to train them to the
predictable repetitions
of a 3:34 composition.
Because at least
this way, I'm aware that my chest
will sink
a little with the weight of truth
at 0:58
and then my heart will flutter each
time 1:47 comes around
while peaceful bliss
remains for the rest
Because it happens
each time it plays.

And there aren't surprises
or random bursts
of crushing sadness
or anxiety
that makes
my heart
pound full speed
while the melody plays
over and over
again and again.