my thoughts won’t hold up . . .
all this deep fried scrutiny
totally rendered
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disappearing now
into this breathing
and I barely hear the words . . .
disappearing now
turning
the world is turning
the galaxy is turning . . .
who’s watching the kids?
some excuse
more than all the stars . . .
these connections in my brain . . .
I’ll find some excuse
all these things
trained like Pavlov’s dog
I’m drooling at all these things . . .
but things keep changing
to get over
this poetic dream
I was born to get over . . .
to get over you
wants to know
is it still breathing
and is it still beating, too . . .
someone wants to know
