Narcisstic Ballistics Poem by GRANT FRASER

It didn't seem worth
saving,

A detailed account
of what seemed to
have happened,

but it would seem
that over years & years,
though,

We have thrust an
invisible knife,
in somewhere?

but time -
I'd suspect it does bleed,
and leaves
bloody, bloody,
invisible tracks,
that lead us nowhere...

It is us,
whom ultimately -
become hidden,
wild washers,
of thoughts & deeds,

word...
if it comes out right,
but doesn't?

can't stand some of the things
that are just so mechanistic enough
to get stuck in thoughts machinary,

imagine for eternity,
all of it!
like a dark sentence,
and outer space,
some hidden judge,

You though what,
or reacted, acted?

if just for a snap second,
our imagination triggers,
it's not like we even want it too,

Hate! - Beauty! - Love! ,

friendship,
somewhere amidst
spread legs,
blot clots & dead sperm,

paints some missed opportunity

sensation is all we are,
feelings, emotions,
places to be tricked...

with infinite faith,
implosion,
or death to it all!

We're leaving you here,
now, of course,
and wont reply,
ever again...

but will later,
from some limitlesss depth,
repetitive circles
chasing our mouth tail,
crying between
each heart beat!

the control buttons....