bowling ball hole

i learned how to enter
from the brass revolving door.
the world grabbed me by the skull.
everything was round but especially
my failures. i floss my teeth with
electric wire. learn to be unbothered
by wind turbines. every movement 
is an opportunity for profit & that includes
the growth of trees. we'll make use of it soon.
for now i see the sidewalk specimens 
& think "what a waste of yearning."  
i was a cow in a previous life & every color 
laughed green. we go bowling together
& outside the sky fills with ash.
the world's end is mundane at this point.
someone takes a picture to use 
as their phone background. we want to remember
exactly what it felt like to play 
when there are no more weights left
to throw. we're being held by 
three little holes. i drill grips 
in the hallway. standing still. ring 
around my neck. i have seen where pins bloom
in ragged fields on dead men. smooth 
even in their dirt. nothing will stop
the coming clutter. something to do
with family. fingers longer than 
my mother's & shorter than my fathers.
i lay down in the gutter of my old futures.
let the machine guess who or what is next.
our shoes are clean enough
to eat off of. a skull is spat 
from the tunnel. we are playing 
in the realest world now. 

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