Heart palpitations of a rotting ribcage and sounds that crawl these walls
I sink into subliminals while a pinprick pain persists, hand in hand with vices
Which keep the sunlight from reaching my retina, bloodshot blurry spurts of
All The Same
Endless spirals of sleep so deep it domineers all yet when awake I’m always on my toes
Seems as though I’m never myself for long enough to explain, or to forget, or to amend
Realisations of peering through a microscope lens, mistaking it for a whole other universe
Where the stars don’t burn out and the void has an eventual end
Nothing matters anymore but the chase, the eventual mortality you found in finite sources
The antithesis to what your valiant efforts are attempting to avoid
Still, my midnight bus is due and has been for centuries
If you hand me two coins to alleviate these blurry spurts of All The Same,
Place them gently so my retinas can rest, I can dream in black again
And I’ll row myself there
Shucks! (Rowing pt2)
Inside, I am a husk. I am deep, hollow
Shucks! (my exterior)
Oh oh, I am neither who I was, or who I hoped to be
I am plainly me, skin. Skin knows pain all too well
It is made to receive it, feel it, process
As if I am an industrial apparatus, a corn mill
Skin asks for divine intervention – eradicate me, all
I do not wish to fly, to fall, I wish to be embraced by black
And forget the part I play, my duties to a dystopia
Of corn manufacturing. Shucks, I say!
I await, coin in hand, final transaction
Row me over this river, away, brief Death Angel
Must be under an hour now, and I sink
Though I wish to stay as I am, forever, until.
I am patience, it becomes me
Impatience, thereof you craved for so majorly!
I understand you now boy, and your east-west ways
Immediacy, is it?
I want it all and I want it now