12.19.20
we’re both swimming laps around my koan
i’m not re-inventing the wheel,
merely
rolling with the punches of honesty
pastoralist guiding oxygen into brittle lungs
they’ve been coveting Zyklon B
collapsed human
if you are to truly kill your idols
you must first renounce making me
so tall.
there are shades of monsters in me
and no, they are not all gray
forgive me