Monday, April 8, 2013

rats on a conveyor belt

Einstein's definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over expecting different results.

A treadmill.
That's what we are.
Rats on a conveyor belt.
Running from the operant conditioned threat
Dangling metaphorically overhead,
Looming and pressing
When I sometimes wish you'd just forget
And take a moment to breath.
Realize this constant running
Isn't helping,
Isn't healing,
Isn't saving
Hearts from being broken
And attacking.


What's the first memory that sneaks up on you
When lay in bed in the dark?
Do you shut down your mind to avoid
Dealing in dreams
And awake the same way you are?
Are you thoughtful and pensive,
Recalling a time when your smile
Met against mine?
Or are memories plagues
Locked tightly away
Where they can't cause any harm.


Tomorrow's vacant like the jar
She left
On the counter Wednesday night.
I have reason to fill it,
Space needing spun,
But I seldom perfect the art.


There's tantamount of words to say
To illustrate my mind today.
And thus it seems,
My cognition schemes
To put a Silverstein lens
Into play.

For vagueness is a folly girl
Who dances as she may,
Skirting round
The construction of sound,
Keeping words at bay.

So rhyming seems the source
To seek. The usher
To lend his hand
And guide within
The patrons dim
In hopes they understand.


Words words words
My heart dries up;
This failure rifts my skin.
Fault fault fault
I drink it up
And let remorse flow in.
Tomorrow's nigh to coming fast
And here we lie in bed,
Staring at the cobwebs long
Ago of spiders fled.

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