Tale Spin

woke up like this

rug burn wrists

bruised touch by

nights of winding

questions

never satisfied

by posing the answers

self speculative

ecstatic inquisition

eternal imposition

external invention

of language to

solve the rubiks cube

of your cumulus 

mind patterns

morning bird song

last walk home

first step

baby waddles

perpetually re-learning

the story in your

sooth-sayers alienation

an object divorced

of contextualization

collection of imagination

connect the dots

leaf to the index

bread crumbs left

by future generations

explorers lost in time

a cataclysm of

half smoke cigarettes

and unopened snapchats

nothing says 4 in the morning

like walking

towards certain death

tied together

by loose associations

and assorted

crossed wires

  

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