When your will is reduced
To a limp palm frond
And your motivation
Lies lifeless
In a pool
Of its own blood –
Lacerated wrists,
Tire eyed relief,
Broken face and
Punctured eardrums –
It may be time
To concede:
You can no longer outwit
Your cerebral deficiencies
Or
Stave off your last goodbye
← alone →
(Anymore).
And in this millisecond moment
Prior to realization
You are remaindered.
You are Radon gas in a mylar balloon;
You are the forgotten string
On a dead man’s finger.
“Was this on the invitation?
Did I send an invite?
Did you crash the party?”
And as clear as a child’s daymare
You recall the dirty mat
Outside the basement door –
The only thing between you
And your deferred dreams –
“WELCOME BACK!”
But you have come home.
And the dogs moved on,
So no one licks your face –
And you have come home.
Your excess time flows over
Like Jeonbang Waterfall
And is consumed by
An incorruptible life force –
(Organisms – feeding – organisms).
Involuntary movements corrupt your body
And precipitate your spine’s collapse
And shatter your feeble knees.
Your Mummenschaz face is
Stretched beyond reason
And forced to relive
Regretful mistakes.
(And while in this purgatory,
no one invites you over for tea.)
So you convince yourself
To engage in meditative recourses
To your quotidian fascial
mycelium ache
That vibrates like cell phone
Chatter and feigns inspiring words.
Within a moment’s moment,
On Event horizon’s precipice,
An ethereal pang permeates your
Forestalled dopaminergic flow.
This drowns your depressive death
In all the lies you tell yourself.
And only then can you see
Your extraneous corporal matter –
Weighted and swollen,
Bloated, tumescent –
For what it really is