profit surge,
margin swell.
increased flow of revenue,
that fish market smell
reminds me

there’s bullshit in everything,
your smile mostly.
grinning transparently, as if you gave
a fuck or two.
anticipating demise.
it could be a trainwreck
or an obstructed breathing passage.

it’s all an act;
I. god
II. democracy
III. love
VII. divorce
XIV. submission -
final act.

if you give up earlier
you’ll be getting straight to the point.
no anxiety, no climax,
no edge-of-the-seat thrill.
a showdown, if you will.
just you and mortality, teeth gritting,
fingers curling with tension.

inching down the path of getting where
you’re going

anyway.

that plywood case,
sarcophagus.
your family bought the cheaper
of the two
because it’s going in the ground

anyway.

i configured a labyrinth
and if it doesn’t intrigue me,
at least i’ll go mad trying to figure it out.