i don't know what happened

it just happened


a southern glance reveals a diptych of snapped levers

the easterly is rampaging off cliffs, a steel teardrop

a crimson comet of flesh and bone

the westerly is apathetically apprehensive

it dares not venture from track

based solely on presumption

that when this bleeding star hits northern troposphere

and flame and facade fade

perhaps the remains will not be much to look at

or worse yet - nonexistent


imagine -

an entire existence characterized by trainwrecks

all triggered by trepidation of trainwrecks


a peculiar paradox without panacea

a neural implosion provoked by analysis paralysis

days and nights spent wandering bizarre bazaars

looking for niches

looking for fortes

looking for which came first - the viper or the egg

looking just to keep looking

keeping grey matter occupied retroactive to nineteen eighty two


they say keep it simple

but occam's razor is looking more like a utensil these days

and besides - who are "they" anyways

until simplicity surfaces

i will continue to consume capsules

fluctuate between calcium cage and amorphous globule

and carry on the quest for middle ground