deepundergroundpoetry.com
Halfway
so much of
this experience
precious, temporal
is wasted
on becoming
invulnerable,
making ourselves
untouchable
until we find that,
in the space
one hair past halfway,
we suddenly can’t
feel a thing
Not present
nor absent,
impending turns
to bygone
on a dime
talking sense
into our souls, we
repetitiously remind
our frailty
that we don’t care ~
until one moment
past the midpoint,
where we realize
we actually don’t
this experience
precious, temporal
is wasted
on becoming
invulnerable,
making ourselves
untouchable
until we find that,
in the space
one hair past halfway,
we suddenly can’t
feel a thing
Not present
nor absent,
impending turns
to bygone
on a dime
talking sense
into our souls, we
repetitiously remind
our frailty
that we don’t care ~
until one moment
past the midpoint,
where we realize
we actually don’t
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