I’ve never had much to say, but if there’s one truth
I can offer to you is that
there is nothing under the sun
I can’t 9-to-5.

Number theory.
Loose screws.
Dead batteries.
Cryptic dreams.

Shipwrecked emotions.
Sun-racked nerves.
Fleeting glances.
Skin, electric,
humming under my hand.

Distances.

The universe expanding, light redshifting.

Nothing.

I clock in with the sun. My mind has hands that never rest. My eyes have fingers that never tire.

Wrestling and wresting like it’s a walk in the park.

The secret is this: You take a deep breath and you put your soul into it.
All of it.
So much that you feel all your memories
Coming up like vomit and you feel like crying.

So every night as I lay in bed and close my eyes,
I take a deep breath and
Before the black ocean of sleep comes to heal my joy-burned bones and muscles,
I navigate the mirage of darkness and glimpse the inner image,
Space-time as a marble in the palm of my hand,
Flashing intermittently on the dark side of my moon
And then it closes and I smile
And add another point to the scoreboard
As I clock out.