anachroconda.

(you really don't need this, friends)
out of time.
time out of time.
taking time away from itself,
which is to say, time traveling.
where?
to the future.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
and there's no future like no future.
what's that?
yeah.
the backspace button has gotten a lot of use already.
uh-huh.
that's real.
i mean,
what do warrior poets write about
when all their battles have been lost?
defeat?
c'mon.
if our failures define us,
then if nothing else,
i am a devastating and spectacularly active participant
in the general undoing of the deeds of an entire decade's
worth of hard styles, hard times, hardened hearts,
and interminable nights.
definitively.
we don't stop fighting, though, y'all, do we?
that's warrior spirit.
that goonies-type jauns.
never give up, never say die,
die, resurrect, repeat, like a ghost in a spiral.
haunted and haunting and re-living a lost life.
never stop doing this?
don't worry, i don't think that's ever been an option.
*
neighbors,
time is slowly constricting.
a narrowing gyre, even.
a funneled tunnel of conical collapsing concentric circles.
it gets tighter, the gaps in between get narrower,
and eventually all the leeway and flexibility
and room for improvement get compacted and condensed
into one solid pressurized core.
a small, easily ingestible, undigestible ball of the
intractable trappings of temporal temerity.
huh?
it's crushing a little bit more life out;
and with every sigh of contentment or
world-weary whoosh of exhausted air,
with each and every single example of exhalation,
the capacity within it is diminished.
you don't get back what you lose.
and eventually, when the insides are empty,
and the outsides have been tempered into that tiny
sphere of concentrated quantum energy?
you know the next step, don'tcha?
yessiree-
...swallowed whole without a second's worth of second thought.
yeah.
that's some sh!t, duders.
never quiet, never soft.....