UNDO

A button
a strap
a clasp
a latch
the plethora of sensible things that
hold you back.
Hindsight is 20/20
and maybe
maybe it should be
but I was thirsty for that mountain high runoff
coon-dick trickle
and my sense of sensiblity
right now
is as fuzzy as my eyes
and the invincible
impossible
is everything conquerable
inside.
Confines
of rationality
delicate
like cotton panties —
were it so easy
to peel away
everything that’s stopping you.
In an empty pasture
scalped
by ruminations
I master the irritation
to ask questions
of everything
and have come to expect
no answer.
Indentations of rock and grass
would be
exquisite emblems
on the skin of bare backs
pristegious recognition
for the rediscovery
of the depth of every pinprick of light
the universe
could show me —
ha
this
is just a wayward fantasy.
We turn back.
We undo.
We unravel
the wrong things.
Everything.
Go alone, then
my saddest friend
in the quietest glooms of the faraway forest
and like osmosis
pull in the peace
you so sought to escape.
It’s not coming back
on these, the pathways
we hastily ran our downed branches over.

They would say
this weakness has just been exorcised
and the hardest part of enlightenment
begun.

Were it so easily
undone.

A button
a strap
a clasp
a latch
the plethora of sensible things that
held you back.

Wasted potential
thus far.

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