repetition six feet under

i’ve almost remembered
how to forget

seething through the long nights
of knifed edge memories
hoping
waiting
to be severed
painlessly
from this stubborn myth

at times
this mind feels like
a rusty steel trap
cold, stained with time
and slow to open

paled medium
no great media
and each creation
is built upon the last
but
in a half assed
sort of way

the rhythm has become a flood
and the melody is lost

seeking an old stash
i’ve robbed
a forgotten cache
of cluttered words
and persistent images
to weave songs
sung anxiously
in the tune of
a desperate exorcism

i’m not even sure
i can finish this thing
i’ve started

locked in this common shell
and bound to hell
i see now
how
the word is
telemetry
and
this world is
on fire

so
sleep now
with nothing but
soft colors
tethered to your soul

it’s better to die in peace
than in panic

when the time comes
i hope you’ll know

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