seasons?
reasons to pretend
round and round we go
she chases him
or he stands stationary
but it is an ocular illusion
that spins a tale so real
I seem to move in circles
and I see you
again and again
visions

has it been so long?
seems yesterday
i walked the black forest
seems tomorrow
i'll see you at the Champ-de-Mars
i return daily in a forced
eternity
and i dream of you
again and again
seasons

a conglomeration of images
I can't find you
i fin d m a ny yo u- s
i cant wait to see you again
release myself from this mortal coil
spinning around and brandishing
but really,
i can't violently object
what images to project
what ghosts to exorcise
i am haunted
excuses.

i can't convince myself
you can't convince yourself
so loops we exist
between fake deaths and births
simulating pain
but merely poor cousins
rehearsals for the final act
a return to where we belong
in between the cock and the egg
someone will always be ahead of someone
release me.