thought crawls

Sometimes I fear

we’re all just inauthentic

versions of ourselves

cloned from strangers,

steeped in repetition,

tethered along by the wormy hope:

we will leave what we take,

tip the balance past zero,

and one day bury

our desperation

in reparations 


there’s no clarity in symmetry

i smoke my cigarettes sober and stare

the homeless straight in their eyes
searching beseechingly
for something more than faith
living on fringes, becoming
marginalized, misanthropic
even chaos misunderstands
my composition
one day i get t-boned on a sidewalk
fate hands me answers on a silver platter
locks click into each other as perfectly
as that car which magically assembles its 20,000 parts
in the midst of a wind storm
hope beckons and i follow
but so do questions,
plane crashes,
trust funds, and
wounded buffaloes;

so does
las vegas,
and sandy hook
and absolutes taste bitter on my tongue
yes, the smoke i exhale is honest
but i can’t live in a world without entropy