These marionette fibres
In your tortured muscles
Push pull
Heavy front
A weakness of back
Too tight jaws
Excess slack

Certain parts are special
Because they get you closer to god?
A magic man can’t create life
On his own

But push push push push

Surely by now
It’s a problem resolved

Get off your throne
Why do you still
Believe in those dreams

A woman’s resolve
A memory of you
A lifetime of pain
Not a care that it’s true

As I seem to red shift further
As you blue shift too close
The day shift kills the
Balance in between

When I boil over
Let me be vapor
When I’m supersonic
Listen
There’s a truth
In everything

Impossible symmetries
Eyes apart from your nose
Now, you know
The limits of love
And the closeness to death

Why do you still believe in dreams?
Because they are food for thought?
Metaphors are non-nutritive
You’ll get wisdom for free

February 20, 2025 | Filed under Prose.