strategically place little breaks
in the flow the perfect balance broken
but therein lies its tempting pull
fly along on an instant’s vision
take off like a rainbow from the
pot of gold hoarded (the
colors are greedy
) but rhythm is this little
mosquito buzzing; once i’ve got the
beat i just wanna lose it

so i’m speeding away from my
self isnt too quick on the
now that keeps slipping
away from me, hot potato idea!
nothing more or a kansas city
shuffle but pick up the pace

i only bounce around
in this empty shell like
I so can I stop
I can stop so fast
and my passengers who
are they really friends no
guttural throat thing or what was it
no no uh those other graye folk

how far will this elastic
possibility stretch before it will
snap a picture of a headlight
(heres that break i wrote)
break this grip stop
staring and darting this
iSex is being timed.

detangle this wet hair with
a pattern of successive differences a
storyline timeline graph of my change
others change maybe can i be
quicker to smooth the creases from this
crayoned valentine
just to make the rip in the middle
last longer

i like things with binary state either open or
(turned away, claiming ground with her eyes),
closed; written out of me no more hissing in skull (school) or
(never even thought of at all)

but not this unfinished art taunting
stripteasing enthralling my autonomous reaction
to expound upon the glimpse
of outsourced insight

anything but a wish for
a sequel

i live life without caring to critique its
replay value.