I can't stop my days from running together
rattattat like rounds from a railgun
try to take cover but I'm out of provisions
scavenging daily to try to recover
while my days recline like desultory kings
on unbroken supply chains that no man can conquer
I.
can't.
*breathe*
try to alter, to change, to do things different
try to sow the seeds of something better
hope to reap not reward but relief
but the month has rotted before my morning has ripened
fields fallow and salted
and I the one who strewed the rock
I.
can't.
*breathe*
like breaking the surface and gasping desperately once
only for your lungs to fill with brine from the next crest
salt to pickle you, preserve you
keep you trapped, keep you scared, keep you aching and bitter
I.
can't.
*breathe*
and the moon is an omen as it hangs in the morning sky
day over before it has begun
do you presume to fight the turn of the earth
it scoffs
do you presume to resist the relentless sameness
one that I have witnessed since I came to orbit a rock
one that was before life was, and I have seen the whole?
it mocks my futility and frailty and
I.
can't.
*breathe*
the days run over me shod in iron cast
the beat of their hooves like the beat of my heart
full gallop before I have even learned their paces
I cannot keep up and I cannot recover
I cannot remount and they will not slow down
unceasing, unchanging, and breakneck
I fear for my life and I?
I.
can't.
*breathe*