Centralist


help me, oh great lord
because i strive to be alone
always.
i debunk the charlatan, loose
and cold as a fish: no more than skin
and bones on a body.
there is no divider between me
and the vast unknown; slickly
i am able to double over it with my tongue,
unbridled and free as the bullet from a pistol.
there are a thousand ways to expunge
and divulge
the unwitting territory of your mind, burgeoning
with unforgettable memories, wrapped in string
the way the exposed bones of a cow would be,
hanged by its feet from the ceiling.
with claws or a machete fit for a dashing
you will dive in: the inertia is there in your movement:
you have been approaching the distance for centuries;
between your fingers it sinks as a distal through skin
through hands
into mortar.