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There
is a steady
constant
terminal
wall
As we hurdle
toward
oblivion
How many times / can we break through
Before our frames / turn to dust?
Punctured and flat
Sent to molder and rust
The sweat evaporates
And returns to the Earth
The dirt takes back
what it has wrought
The seemingly ceaseless
turning and cranking
Ends in the deepest shade
of incomprehension
Our perch on the saddle,
A throne of gorgeous denial
The ride a displacement
of the claws at our backs
Prompting us to speed
into the infinite mouth
of the inevitable
-
Swallowing all (swallow)
on this treacherous path (treacherous)
Of steep inclines (steep)
and hammering hearts