old notebooks

lockless and curfewed
i am crammed
back into my
twelve year-old self.

struggling, alive,
they exorcise my
adult, exhume my
childhood for
resurrection

or rebirth.

attempt again
to upbring me
properly
before the world.

even lab techs
know you can't
reuse
guinea pigs.

you don't
go back and make
them right,
just because

now

you know.

seeds you've
cooked won't ever

grow.






it's talk of numbers
again
all athmatic and how smart you are.
so good at lying,
now that you know yourself.

it's obvious, but only
momentarily.

absence of thought
is letting whatwhomhaveyou
take you wherewhatever.

you will find yourself

perpetually making
things more
difficult.

you'll smile a little
smile a
while, but

won't feel as though
you deserve it.

ten thousand angels
you will never know
are crying for you now.

ten thousand church bells
ring to save
your soul.

somewhere,
in the earth,
the clock is ticking
indifferently

and someone sighs.

persons pushing it against
people weighing on it
to slow down.

what's next isn't to
ask anymore.

time needs space.

i cue you to
move on to the next
in a

series of questions.