a student to the stacks—eager
to peruse, but only borrow
from their creaking shelves.
Then I attack its distractions
like an invasive insect
and burrow into boredom’s core,
until I’m where the center’s at.
When I walk down the street,
I walk like a king—always
shining the void stars
without even trying.
And my birth must be
pretended since it can’t
be recollected, but death
is not my enemy—no,
death is just the remedy.
For in the end, it
Then I attack its distractions
like an invasive insect
and burrow into boredom’s core,
until I’m where the center’s at.
When I walk down the street,
I walk like a king—always
shining the void stars
without even trying.
And my birth must be
pretended since it can’t
be recollected, but death
is not my enemy—no,
death is just the remedy.
For in the end, it
cures me of the bug
of being myself.
