Stuck around in the board room meeting, ravenous and blissful, chugging down on freshly laid piles of rhetorical excrement, modes lingering in the air like Chernobyl.
Soon we will either have to evacuate
Or we will grow malicious twins on our shoulders
Two faced
Mind duality
Mode dynamic
Facetious solitude, always side by side with the proverbial circle ****
Of terminology, "lest ye be teriminated." White lies, loving, adoring, detrimental white lies.
Dead mythology
Dead language
Can you handle the live ones?
*Symbolitude

The threshold, a kink in the continuum. A static line, 7" thick. An inch a mile, a million high-ways through low-days. Between freezing underpasses, mirrored in ice. Stray dogs passing, paying no mind, for there is none. Dying mice; too white for the whiteness.

Give me a road and I'll follow
across our fallow fields.
At either end, a somewhere an anywhere;
yielding, if anything, a brief love of the vastness of our expanses.
In such terms, humans and roads
are inseparable.

Give me legs and itchy feet, and I will carry this filthy deed.
"To go," for nothing
but the words alone
Like a redneck with his whiskey and his 12-gauge
we rage
full on.

Give me recklessness, give me godlessness, give me symbolitude & contemplacency. Give me thoughtlessness, or better yet, leave me with instinct, and I will carry the rifle for the enigma-insignia
of the Great Nation of Motion.

And I endure
to procure
myself
in two places
at once.