Emotions are cruel.
There is a length of motion to existence.
Humans are consigned to sadness
Mice in a finite maze,
It culminates with death.
We receive no directions to this dimension.
Our daily jubilation:
Mechanical monkeys who clap frantic cymbals
Clockwork mannequins, chemically infused with biology.
We think we are happy, declare our sorrows profusely
Yet, we are so confused
Zen faces, empty eyed
Emotions that we hide.
Our hearts are jewelry boxes, wound tight-
Awake at midnight, chimes echo in an empty store.
Before floods come, cities build dikes.
We plant beds of paper flowers
Barriers to stop prairie fires.
At every moment,
Each minute extends by a single second
Time etches itself upon the human form,
Wreaks designs like a tattoo artist’s needle.
This Rorschach mystery of making scars into artistry
A pen that trails a flow of ink and blood
A traveling spark that moves in a frenzy of combustion
Relentless documentation without explanation
Confluence of breath and observance of pain
Record traced on the continents of our skin.
