Like picking vitamins off the floor with dirty hands,
I am listening to songs about inadvertent blasphemy
At the speed of sound at sea level,
Thinking it’s a way to finally get free.
Every night is happy hour,
Blackout drunk from exhaustion,
Stumbling over calendar boxes to find where I need to go next.
Not backwards.
It's imaginary, ordinary…the sound of my mistakes.
Alone in a subway car,
Always: from one thing to the next.
Who put this table on a clock?
It just keeps turning and turning.
Twisting implications and explications apart.
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