A third eye?
Or too many wisdom teeth
still inside the mouth? At ORD
I didn't extract any, and let the army take all it wanted out of my psychoemotional house.
Inevitably,
I would later be defined by my ability to rouse
myself from every waking nightmare. To dispel the fears that stare
longingly at you from the sidelines. Despair
clings to the walls
of where you had your first bout with stage fright
and didn't lose or win.
Your body grew chill. The air far too thin
and something called to you:
"Come. Rejoin me
in sin."
You spun the Wheel of World Movement, and like water
something else, too, begins to turn deep within.
Is it light or darkness
or neither?
Maybe just a
slight tilting, a nodding of the head. A swift acknowledgement that Kevin
Martens, after all his great and lonely traumas,
and everything that made or unmade him
is still him, as human as human can be
filled to salty inner brim.
Perhaps the universe, therefore,
finally also deserves something far more
than just a simple loss
or win.
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