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