we still don't know how
to be what we are
the consciousness that
cursed us
the books they made up
to make sure we'd keep
killing each other
the clock calendar carousel
wracking guilt, disappointment
lottery lucky time travel fantasies
not a step up
no stepping up
a reckless beginning
with a crossbow counterpoint
gotta hell of a kickback
braised bravery
for the good of it all
all of the good
pressed convulsions, backtracking
i wasn't sure what my mind
was appraised at anymore
fuck it i was out of the game anyhow
*****
who were the poets
i was supposed to find out
who were the comedians
who were the prophets
who were the dream dreamers
who had guts after all
who had em
who
*****
practicality like a headache
with that holding gripping clenching kind of charm
who i couldn't be
was getting pretty chummy with everybody
piece by piece by piece by piece
that's all i got, no?
*****
i would make me
and take the time it takes
and the ups and downs
of my bank account
and brain
i would create me
in that time and place
hovering just over reality
and just under eternity
like the space between magnets fighting
but with a good ending
i would derail me
if need be
just to be clear... i am NOT afraid
i feel roots when i stand
mobile roots
along for the ride
like the forest i missed, left behind
it's still there, making noise
theologically speaking
bracing for broken daydreams
inevitable but temporary
another chapter, come and gone
like they say sometimes
but i would stay the main character
just watch