A-B - Poem by Tyler Comstock
A brain like a line may have two end points.
A parameter, a suppression of physical size
Notice though, within those two dimensional borders
And in between the straight back of a line
Is an infinite numbers of midpoints
A perpetual depth, room for one, or all
To fall into their selves
Where distance is not measured
In miles, feet, or inches,
But by decades, and larger spans of time.
Space enough to enjoy
Your ship wreck forever sinking.
A line, like a brain, knows no end
Two arrows attached, launch into eternity
Allowing for infinite, not a human experience
While the Dura matter of your brain
May decompose down into dirt, it’s the content
The thoughts, the only things you truly ever own
That will go on forever, unspoken words
Echo in your mind, the loudest cacophony in the world
Made by eager violence of imparting lips
Following the same path, identical trajectory
But if your brain follows such a straight line
You will only end up where you started.
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