Circles
Instead of pacing in circles.
With that drumming feeling.
Feel your feet undoing themselves.
Evasion.
Everyone has burdens.
Hands used to weed the garden.
Are useless when-
The garden is perfect.
Instead of pacing in circles.
Why not pack luggage?
And the luggage flies out the window.
So I am grateful.
Instead of pacing in circles.
In circles.
In squares.
And other dimensions that make me hushed.
I like to drum my hands against the wall.
And the wall is made of air.
Everyone has burdens.
And they take us on an adventure.
With that drumming feeling.
Scrapping like a brick.
It’s like my eyes are attached.
And so are other organs.
Instead of pacing in circles.
Do your homework.
But…
That’s made of nothing.
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