Reset.

[Eŋg]

Mind closes in on open words: vers libre,
so (ab)norm it lacks form, I don’t know what that’s worth, either.
The nurse leaves a
bad taste on the table & syringe in my mouth
(stoic birds in contrast to the trees singing aloud).
Reset. I’m pretty sure there’s a shill in this house,
just unsure what they’re selling – “two pills” the amount
she said. Then I should be feeling the drowse,
so whose head am I really sitting in now?
Figure it out. Ignoring what your lore on physics allow,
at the apex, sitting above in shadow,
bumping Taro, told you… triangles are my favourite shape:
primal bathing ape, see her naked nape,
seek to graze - or taste - then breach her navel space,
tryna hit it from the back ‘till I split her present & her past
(dw the bitch’s frame is safe: I can change the pace)
Reset. Sex is secondary,
don’t waste Time: It wounds all heels, see even second’s heavy.
Reveal depth as elementally as a sentry to his own thoughts can,
but don’t force, man, traded drunken overhands
(with no over-the-shoulder glance) to be sober, thanks;
swinging anachronistic aluminium blades made from soda cans,
For how long do Novas last? I’m sorry, love, I lost the buzz
& never wanted to hold your hand, it was just a Freudian trance.
Don’t feel there’s ever been much to owe to chance,
so load your own arms and do a fucking Cossack solider dance.
Equip yourself; you sick & help’s just over the stonewalled dam.
Take aim, spray flame like you would paint those tags.
no penalty for missing, hit any potentially a witness, it ain’t so bad.
Reset. This a therapy for misfits,
every felt memory is twisted & the realm of reverie is cryptic,
my lethargy; a misprint (put the wrong impression on the signet).
We’ll miss things: like our juvenile energy… when we limp-dicked,
Or a time before I made an enemy of siblings,
The ship sinks; I suppose that some benefits are limpid.
Given the honest praenomen of English, a linguist,
That’s promise my pen’ll be distinguished.
Don’t relinquish, self-doubt’s a hindrance
…you cannot extinguish Firefrost,
the cold-flamed no-name grows brave in a trying spot,
Lying locked… in the lion’s jaw,
& all I did was try and roar.
Only sometimes scrawl a line & find it raw,
Though I’m sure there’s a time when all
I’m fighting for… is to write some more,
without reason or rhyme nor thought.
An inkwell, inked well, is mightier than the finest sword.
Despite the law mine is broad
and as clean-cut as the Lysefjord.
Reset. Fuck it; I guess my life is flawed.
Elysian halls remain a dream that mock,
I’ve an obituary tattooed from a demon’s jot,
Reminiscent of broken sweethearts who sleep apart
As secrets part, ‘cause we think what’s real is not.
I ain’t never speak my heart; all speech is dark,
yet I’m still tryna seek that spark, heat or hearth
to leave a mark, naw I don’t need that needled arm.
Need a Calm… to precede the storm,
in the Eye of my atmosphere my seat is worn,
Seen a stork eaten by a seagull’s scorn, nevertheless
a seed is born; feel your spawn’s breathing’s warm,
you beam, & fawn, course. that breed is yours,
a source of peace & all your reason for living,
be sure to tell ‘em that, before the whole demeanour is switching.
Yet what do I know, not sure what I’m even thinking.
Reset. Fairly certain I need a repeat prescription.