consumed
with desire
at the base of endless
mountain peaks
it's buzz lightyear's wet dream

prone, fetal
cramped and alone
don't think i'll eat another meal
until i'm warm and still.

hands shake
food flies
my face is a buffet
of every mistake
i can fashion

i am a canvas of broken dreams
but isn't everyone
are there sunny skies
the sun can possibly see?

your arctic cheeks should curl up
in my furnacitic bunker heart

come naked or don't come
there's nearly no time left

i touched your arm
to let you know
you should ring the bell
ill be your soul's waiterdog

your big eyes can rise to meet me
and we won't want for
you won't want for those eyes
that abacussed earnestness
will miss the bus
hitchike lost and alone
will whither
sterilized
by fifty-four and
greygrey skies

i touched your arm
to touch something
anything at all that
might move our unmoving unmoved movers
to move.

i want to end the monologue.

i want to end the inner monologue.

i want to end the inner monologue that kills.

i want to end the inner monologue that kills via adjustment.

i want to end the inner monologue that kills with calibrating second thoughts.

i want to kill this judas, this calibrating inner monologue before it kills me.

IWANTTOENDTHISMIRROREDMENTALTREADMILL
IWANTTOWANTTOENDTHISMIRROREDTREADMILL
IWANTCONTROLOFCONTROL
IWANTAPIECEOFMIND
NOTEVERYTHING
GRASPABLE

___________________________________________

the gun slung over his shoulder, his
body perpendicular with the ground
neither his loose shoelaces
nor his fraying cuffs - no,

NOTTHE MOON SLIVER-

can rouse facticity's flatlining stoicism