Spending some time in deep introspection
in this eternal mind of mine—
spending some time with
those minions in my bright mind.
It’s evervescent and tropical in here
sweaty and humid
we do work and call ourselves holy.
These spirits of sensation, they trigger memories
and pointer figures to approach and discern—
there is holiness indeed untampered with,
misunderstood, as to be expected.

I’m tightrope weaving on the top of the mountain
leaving the abyss deep in the clockwork of
a magician mind, the spotlight on
security and financial recklessness.
I’ve got holes in my knuckle bones and I dance
I didn’t know about that remote control
before you pressed the button
and I talked.
Turn me down, please
better yet—
I’ll have that back, and go into my cave buttons
my security deposits far away from the sniffles
of societal pressure tissues and close calls
on the wisdom teeth surgeries.

The moment I was saved I entered into contract
with the grasshopper deadbeats that spring up
wielding violin concertos and asking for our winter storage.

And they call me selfish.

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