Pressure Wash

i am here and i am not

i am a part

a part of the plot

i am missing

and if i should stop

just cease to jot

this extra special guesswork

would just be more hissing

i have become an integral part

of the trap i laid for myself

as i paused to marvel at its construction

i realised i haven't lost control

it's over there, somewhere...

having bypassed the deluge of instruction

i stood knee deep in second hand time,

the detritus of this semi detrimental obstruction

a pause, not of reflection but misdirection

hand is same speed as eye

a wave or a nod or a melancholy smile

there's no easy way to say goodbye

what i’m really after

is eluding me right now

like trying to find

the smoke in a fog

the wood in a log

the wolf in the dog

yet i find myself unable to think of anything except pressure washer advertising

economical solutions for jetted water cleaning scenarios

it’s right at that moment it all goes pivotal

degrees become playthings

instances mooted en masse

variant free variables

dependent on inert gas

i feel it burn inside of me

a soothing burn

all cool and warm

but i cannot turn it into words

i feel it turn inside of me

a moving turn

independent of the yearn

a documenting of the lost

trying to stretch the future

to reach the past

knowing that both are incompatible

with every conceivable now

i can't be here there then and now

there is no which where when or how

there is no illusion, it's a collusion delusion

and while seeking solutions

i was able to see my many deaths

and it is here i find there's nothing pretty or noble

more often than not you just turn blue, dribble and defecate as you deflate and separate from this mortal coil

yet, be it poison, blade or "accident"

know that whatever foul or natural deed may be attributed to my passing,

it's simply not true

i died of a broken heart

a long long time ago

now i'm just a broken part

and this, my fractured show

a dark tangle of cardio cranial madness and maladies

i persist in this fey existence

inside this ethereal netherworld

i am a mangled marionette

peeling paint and twisted strings

i am the neglect i have become

i am the buzz inside the hum

i am the end that has not begun

i am all things i am none