i am running here this treadmill,
to grind the corn of every step
and make a meal out of fear and
shame---when i complain, i refrain
the footstep falls of yesterday.
here they come round, the dark
shadow prints that took me with
them below, off the map to travel
in reverse.
this world is flat
and rounded only at the sides.
i am a thinker so i wonder why
and see my fate in the stars
on the dark side of the mill.
not swallowing my pill uncoated
by pride---these are the treads
i will always ride. there is no
bread in this fortune, no bloody
host.
there is only the shadow
footfall coming at me i fear
the most. haunted by memory
atop and memory below---
a static illusory light beaming
before me when i am below
streaming at me when i am above
and nothing but a vertigo fire
of mind to confirm this---
this button is send.
this trigger is end.
this treadmill run is dead.
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