Strike
jittery, but comfortable,
our tendencies
shift with
each period of our
lives.
the apparent-ness of it
grows from
the inside out
until we don’t
quite
recognize ourselves.
shut your eyes
when you
feel the blow,
and
ask yourself this:
Who am I?
pick up your shovel
and start
digging because
answers are never
shallow.
drive to the junkyard
to make
your deposit;
your contribution
to the wreckage
of the
past,
and maybe that
will help.
swallow the pungent
flavor of
mass confusion
and roll with
the punches.
go with the flow.
endgame is soon.
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