spatula, words

if i traveled ninety percent the speed of light for ten minutes

due to dilation of time

twenty minutes would go by for everyone else

my mass would increase by nearly double as i race

no matter how far i run the problems only double in mass and twice as much harm is doled out

if i were sucked out the airlock of the space station with no suit on

i would freeze, burn, boil and be unable to breathe at one glorious moment

tick off a few bucket list items at one moment

though that is kind of what the anxiety and depression and just weight of the ever conspiring whirlwind of used toilet paper and random flames

kind of

is this really where my head goes

no one needs to know these things but then i get curious and have to know

anyone that reads my browser history is going to be so confused

like stumbling into the attic of a serial killer while looking for the christmas lights

just floating chunks of cancerous failings in formaldehyde cloudy cotton candy discharge

like so many poems and shirt stories aborted in the act of consummation

dead in space

running into the future with casual disinterest

raisins and poppyseeds cast about the room in maddening deferment

screaming as my blood boils and i need flipped

the infinite spatula of the gods

heavily salted and charred

burnt steak and ottomans in the living room to kick back and watch the game

surely there must be a game

no

pity

3 thoughts on “spatula, words

    1. Nice! “like stumbling into the attic of a serial killer while looking for the christmas lights
      just floating chunks of cancerous failings in formaldehyde cloudy cotton candy discharge”
      I like these lines extraness!

      Liked by 1 person

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