dear sacred, unnameable, unapproachable you

everything is interconnected.

-

on that rough patch of a slippery road
     in the passenger seat i stared into the noise wall.
i knew then.
     to carry this conviction in the purse
of my stomach like a leaden bullet.

there are ways to smuggle this

and make it out alive, i repeat.


she the catalyst,
     empty bullet case
shifted gears and became a stranger.
you turn around and see
      a wall of a slippery road.

one to zero,
       limp neuron. and i believe
we all switch modes

    but is it circular and are there ways back to foreground.

-

i am god i am fraud,
(as in) here is where we converge
and conversely split up.
here at self-pity our cultures briefly meet

listen i do not play chess.
i am not faking it when i say i am reaching out.

it is very clear that i am on the edge.

and nightsky synapses lock arms

the circumference of the
suspension bridge before it
       explodes into magic dust evapo
                                   rating unto noise

just admit it.

-

but not as much as you’d like to believe.