The Situation Currently

And maintaining consistency with our other inadequacy

We shall, stumble on

Crawling if we must, chaffing our skin against the dust of this dry mud flat

Through a twisted gate, that swivels in the wind

With a hideous noise that would grate against even a raven’s sensibility.

We finally crawl through the gate, and up the steps

The clothing’s long gone off our back, the sun, inspected it for days, leaving blisters

We rise up on a weather rusted chair, and gaze out over the white dusty oblivion

There is a pain in our side, hunger

For a bit of company

That doesn’t buzz nor bite

And perhaps we will take flight

From

The tiredness that is inside the place, withdrawn like the darkness now

That hides behind the sullen windows.

But it’ll be back, when that overblown exaggerated self absorbed light bulb finally drops behind the hills.

The tiredness of waiting, is like the doors long ago fallen off the hinges, It’s taken form like the paint peeled walls.

There is something more, a thirst,

For more than what is here, the words compacted, (chalky, grit like between teeth) restrained, nascent, not yet free,

like the sand in that bottle.

Where has it been? We saw it as we crawled around that mountain-    sailing over a dune, on its way to better grounds, the barren sea.

The inside of desolation is resolution ,

The inverse of matter is nothingness

We used to care but that was miles before.

© Matthew Kenneth Kosak

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