#782 - losing face

 

24.ii.22

782

3.55

losing face

for godsbother

 

everyone is innocent inside

 

one wells up

in the sack of self

(like Rome, at least a little)

 

all past culpable

touch

 

in the spirit of

a universal skin spread sky

 

how often we’ve been

ashamed of fact

 

lightning behind closed lids

 

when I arrived no one was waiting

 

highly nested

some say strung

 

imagine every elsewhere

no one can read

 

looking forward to my own disintegration

there’s no looking back

or where we’ve been

 

swim, forget

 

we’ve guessed a way here

now home

I call this wishful thinking

 

a gondolier in the birth canal

the speed of light is nothing

what if all of space were already explored

and here’s the song we sing

 

here are

ropes of phlegm

to the stars!