gate of impasse

i live in an archaeology of tired
an only -ennui -when- i -rise -to -it tired.
song told me to sit up straight
so i unfolded for a moment. when she left
i collapsed again. one must put
on appearances or they
won't go away.

if i made a list of things i'm tired of
but why?
that would give death a means to google me.
i keep telling you death don't need no help.

we talk to each other from
passenger seats, a taylor durden
existence. my ears fill with smoke's sound
my mouth a silenced song.

if i'm going to immolate
why pick a rice paddy away
from the village? make your death mean something
you once told me. i'm still chuckling.


there is no such thing as time.
there's no such thing as elvis.
never was
never will
be


why is it that when in shock
do as the taser does?



still asking questions
like that annoying six year old
i never grew out of. only my
vocabulary is slightly better.
knobs for banging against
protruding tables. this is how i find them.

when the you is me it's hard to tell the difference between us.
i think tho, it's ok to think about things
and let them run the whole river
before asking them to sink into the gulf.
call it the mississippi
call it the sea.
call in to work today
but there's no one else to be.