own
out |poetry| James Shillabeer
A diaphragm in a playground no longer has symbolic weight because “we” have lost our way but really we haven’t its just a sort of exaggeration that makes us think we are generationally distinct and have redefined what it is to be pleasurably screwed up indulging in faux despair and unnecessary French language interruptions masquerading as refinements while thinking unimaginable that we can be topped because if we are not at the edge where are we? At a window? Well, we are precisely where they left us which is where they were left in their turn to lark in inheritance and spend it on more of the same with the volume raised so that we can drown out the absence of nagging doubts which we hope upon like those countless meteors that could one day interrupt the rotation of the earth and bring no sun to bear against our almost-instinct.
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