.
there are fifty push ups
straight back, nose to the floor
hiding somewhere palms down
plush in the soft of that rug
there is ten whole years
of new ways to think
lost somewhere amongst
that unread book pile
there are miles stretching out
untold in the quietly lubricated
movements of this bike
it's silence speaks to me
to look at you'd never see
thousands of kilograms held
up lifted in weights sessions
waiting sore in my shoulders
after slump-hard breath,
eight whole kilograms extra
waiting bodily to disappear
from under shakes and sweat
in my daggy track pants
a decade of concrete story
still not as yet discovered
in the constant clack
on this pounded keyboard
a score of lovers
to be untangled
from this tongue
inside my mouth
there are future friends
stuck to that unfolded map
a home resting-right
just behind my eyes
infected anger in my joints
with the pains of things
made impossible by age
failure loneliness
discovery apathy
choose life, abuse life
lose life, whose life?
looking for things yet to happen
things you can't actually see
except in a game the future plays
of tracing your disappearing act
from this world
in a tattoo invisibility-inked
on the exposed skin
of your fleshy imagination
unsure about until they're done
finding these things
eventual /perpetual
impetuous towards fate
that is, kid
'long as you're not dying today.
.
No comments:
Post a Comment