Stepwise

Tomorrow I’ll take a drive
I’ll be a dusty slate erased
Southeast as the crow flies
I hope the grass is dead

I am adrenaline panicked, holding headboards
Yours are such ordinary objects
Glory mornings stamped winter white
Standing in a sea of garbage

Crawling in time, imaginary in space
I would like to cruise helmetless
To scrawl illegibly
To expose my cracking ribs

It’s all too literal, angular
Living in a box like an oven
On a catastrophic delay and falling
Asleep early, for health and virtue

Here is the breadth of conspiracy-
You’ll find freedom in chains
Lick the floor of sand as the sea
Be provided necessities at your leisure

When ignited, I sink,
But the Din sustains