18.11.08
i am a battering ram made of tinker’s dam.
an unsteady surface serving a worthless purpose.
shaking the walls of this mistaken city,
a city unshaken by the gravitational constant of
my constantly repeating dreams.
the repetition is nuclear fission on my mind,
chain reactively decaying thought and emotion alike.
wisdom, cast into the slums of boxed cajón drums.
love, cast into the slums of “when the time comes.”
the city is my olympic track.
i am usain bolt, beating my opponent back from the front of the pack.
i run at the speed of broken necks.
i deposit blank checks into my new-founded bank, My Injured Heart.
i’d put myself on the disabled list, but i’m
too much of flight risk to be granted bail.
so around this track i’ll keep backwards running,
circling this oval office inscribed: “my mind.”
negatively traversing the line of time.
hoping that time travel will enable me to understand
to understand the beforelife, that before true life commences,
_blank_ must unwrong my common senses.