cons id e r

dumber by the
day and I can feel it
creep down synapse eat
gray matter kill too many feed
the rest too much give the rest
of my mind a wonder a precarious
position a pretense of preposterous
ramifications



It’s killing me.



tendrils grasp; do not let go
barrel down my thoughts beat them
to plasma and I yet
turn another thought
into a grunt
and a nod of the lids
as an admittance of guilt
my breast yearns for such
filthy willpower to make itself
present to
…


…
and it comes to me like nike. Like my mother’s
cross-stitch
(just [do it) now]
my father’s voice inside the yellow hatred eyes he says
“Listen here, dumbass
you know you’re better than that”
and this is about the point
where the psychotic break
kicks down the door and grabs
me by the collar and threatens
to rip my fucking head off jesus
fuck
“so why aren’t you doing it?!”

and it sits there
in its bubble
mocks me with a raised eyebrow.
I shrug ala cerebus; walk in
brazen moonlight shone through quixotic
walls of nonimportance
while it follows me, above my head
a black thunderous light bulb of memo

So too, I walk in the garden of epochs while
the twinkled with dust faeries come
a glitterin’ across my nose
in blue angel fashion
take heed, tread with persistence, solidity
rock of the ages
resolve
to the myriad Technicolor
flashback
like communism, just misplaced in
practice; still just and
honorable in theory.

Re consider
Re confinement of sorts
a disjunction of Re configurement soul suckling naiveté

that is to say
shut the fuck up
and
listen

cons id e r by Michael W. Hyde is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.