5-7 Have You Done Good Things? / The Wrench / Time And I
The thread wound and unwound. Time, slow and composed. Back to start, dive and repeat, questions- “Are you responsible? Are you accountable? Have you spared a thought for you friends? Do they think of you?” I’ve been filled up with myself, covered in hand-me-down rot. “Did you have a lot to say? Have you waited your turn? Have you been patient?” Overwhelmed by the process in my gut, curled up. “Did you have unrecognized talent?” Spin myself silly, convinced I was right. “Have you done good things? Do you do things good?” Enraptured more in fact by the process than by the result. “What do you resent? Are there things about others that you resent?” The world cracking and skipping on repeat. “Has it been a long wait? Have you been patient?” The syndrome. “Are you in love? Are you feeling well? Have you taken care of yourself?” Prayer of thanks for a few healthy years. “Have you done good things? Do you do things good?” No. Laugh it off, back to start. The wrench when pulled that held its breath and released a torrential downpour for wayward feet. Landslide of time. Enclosed in a wicket, the basket that encapsulates me. I’m curled up in a thread, slowly unwound. My fingertips are just beyond the pale. A seething ecstasy torn asunder - that went beyond the reach. Devil select me - I want to be agreeable to everyone that I meet. I want to be proven wrong. I want to be more than agreeable. I want to be shook and grabbed. I want to burst aflame into a catherine wheel and spin myself silly. Prayers on fire. The syndrome - dive, repeat. Prayer of thanks for composure. The syndrome, the process, the downpour: One line, a fist drawn/tone ride/I’m in danger/Lift up, now I’m back at it/Left side, heave/How’d you get so filled up with yourself/Back to start, laugh it off/Were you convinced you were right/One line, a fist drawn/tone ride/I’m in danger/Lift up, now I’m back at it/Left side, heave/Promo campaign/How’d I get so filled up with myself, so it all became a promo campaign/Back to start, laugh it off - a prayer of thanks for composure. A prayer of thanks for a few healthy years. Have you shown patience? Time and I switched places, and it became a basket, and I became the air, enclosed in a wicket. It was turned upside down and reversed - dive, repeat. I tried to put a wall around each second, because I found that I was overwhelmed by the process in my gut, the process of speaking with detail. I was overwhelmed by this grasping, this longing for a heart. Seconds became massive, and the basket from which my minutes were woven became colossal. Wrenched, I curled up and let it swallow me whole. Time and I switched places, so now I’ve got to grow to fill it up. When I came back out and there was no one around, not even the spirits and insects, I was a lone tower, and saw from above how the whole thread was wound. So when I came back down I knew just how this grasping for your heart would turn out. I want to be shook and grabbed by colossal hands. I want to be proven wrong. I want to be agreeable, I want to listen. Prayer of thanks for composure. The syndrome- saw the world start cracking and skipping. It made me hate everything, and everyone. Time and I switched places and now I have to grow to fill it. I know that there is a light to shine through, through the small cracks, to be pulled out, and I won’t close my eyes to it. But I’ve got to grow.