| |
a sledgehammer to the achilles.
how much longer
can we endure—routine a serial killer
of epiphany, punching time-clocks,
this breath for a pittance—i am losing it,
man, this charade becomes too much,
this undirected wandering begets freedom
& confusion, uncertainty and neglect,
neglect of the body, this the temple.
you must regain your footing, old sport,
you are losing it, you whom used to repel
off towers of tumult with seamless ease,
the world then caviar, man, and you’d eat it,
fleetingly banished like a leper into a colony
only you knew to be paradise, and that’s precisely
what it was.
and it is here we forget—we must forget ourselves,
forget those soft words, forget fond memories
of cake and dancing, instead embrace the darkness,
let it consume you, inhale it like it was the last breath
you’ll ever have.
it is only then you will exhale the light.
|
