I’m tired of my voice

crawling through the same
story, eye swung in pendulum
against eyes that refuse to gaze
past this vignette.

Give me a reason to clutch
the paces, to blindfold this
rivered lens
that thrusts icicles
into shouts of brevity,

take a trip with me
until our feet nail themselves
to the barrel rhythm of trains.

I can’t fall in love with a sphere,
or wrap my footsteps
inside some circular journey
where I know already
the trigger affixed to each vice,
the mechanism shifting
every crooked heart’s tick.

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