the space-walk sutra v
v. the metaphysics of dreams
only now you realize that there is a demonic backdrop
to your dreams
in that restless yearning that never stops.
always risking something greater
than hamlet's disappointment,
you strive forever incapable of taking arms
against those outrageous expectations;
forever incapable of ending them;
forever willing to fardles bear;
to forever grunt and sweat under a weary life.
your imagination knows the scope of your abilities too well
and conceives a cosmos in joint,
thus envisioning the quintessence of the universe
in the fucking bodkin eking you on.