I yearn to gain
Verbose vernacular
predicated on
simple flickers of ‘membrance
of people I once knew
Or imagined i’d known
like a quilt
of soft spoken slurs
or stutters
sewn seamlessly with insatiety
each word whittled
a hidden hymnal
ushering in the fetish
of flesh consumed,
only rhetorically
I’ll keep you
My lovesIn each sentence
Time in A Minor, or by Whose Selection?
My assertion faded,
I went to switch the song,
From now to then,
From old to new,
And fingers fumbled,
And instead of hitting next,
I hit repeat,
I hit pause,
I hit, hit, hit you,
Which is, who is,
Everything but next.
Finger tips danced across every
Always glancing and gracing the next,but never quite
Until, fingers fumbling
Faculties fading from friction of time
I Hit the engage switch
The kill switch
The I fucking hate you start button,
Still, in flurries of moments,
I can’t hit the next button.
Russia’s missiles countdown started;
American nuclear war engaged;
China’s death laser warming up;
All by my fumbled fingers.
I can start the apocalypse,
Winding up for nuclear winter;
Global warming got nothin’ on my finger tips.
Polar bears polarizing at my notion
When it comes down
When it counts down
When the end is no longer near,
But all engaging
Roaring louder then the song I can’t skip
I’ll be even farther from hitting next
Then I was a year previous
Or would be a year from now.
