a sentient

I almost failed to remember
my obligation to see myself
withdrawing from my mental exile
in a self induced coma.

a State of the Union
Pharaoh’s Dance.

All buses are sponsored
and waiting under the bridge
away from the Eye of the Beholder
away from the Thunderstorm of Hail and Fire.

The path to the dystopian future
is laid out through the parting of mind.

(Sea of Reeds)

Don’t jest and perform miracles
while stuck in limbo
frozen in salto mortale
over abyss of self awareness.

the inanity (part #7)

I’m patient.
Yes, I am patient.

I can calmly wait in the line to urinals,
and mumble “God’s gonna cut you down”,
while you’re struggling with your neglected prostatitis.

I can wait,
while the coldness of the restroom
is embracing my quiddity;
putting me in the center of the Universe
or its outskirts.
(depends on a ventilation).

I’m not Johnny Cash,
I’m not wearing black
I wasn’t blessed with calm bass-baritone.

but I can wait,
without knowing people’s faces
behind the toilet doors
or their shivering bodies
making a gestalt image of a macrocosm
(again, depends on a ventilation).

or only an exosomatic memory, —
recorded on the misted mirror.