. // THE INSOMNIAC'S CALENDAR. )

[sinensys]

the benign usurper
creaks in my marrow
and all i can do is
ache ---

how swiftly
the rampant swallow
departs from its
lofty state.

the ragged breath
rakes my innards,
that sedonan hiss
unforgiving ----

how slowly
the sand-struck welts within
return to the
beginning.

the vapid maw
crushes me once more,
leaving me to that
wavelength ---

how dizzyingly
the sinusoidal boa wraps itself
around me in a show of
strength.

(the written ink
bleeds through
to write new pages.)

[sinensys]

the vacant wrath
of that gasping sun,
a wistful god
lying in wait,
long arm extended.
in the gloaming
its gaze remains caged,
a caracal contained,
but despite all efforts,
morning comes
to unshackle
the burning nothing,
that starved, empty deity.

[sinensys]

perhaps even i,
the benign usurper,
the patron saint of crashing out,
can cast a tall shadow
over this lightless realm,
bringing a gentle glow
in my illuminating ascent.
perhaps even i,
that chaos switch
in the midst of lidded dread,
can topple the baited despair
--- smilodon unswayed,
machairodontinae.

[sinensys]

in my downswing descent,
peregrine plummeting,
i am left a haphazard
pile of dust
--- and so i am
scattered
as the venerated
sedonan sand scourge.
in my silicon wake
lie stilled ripples,
only unfrozen by the
wicked whims of the
vicious whirlwind
held within.
sand-struck,
the raptor reaches out
to no avail.

(at least the
weightlessness
can be revelled in.)

[sinensys]

and so i reflect
on my past transgressions
as a disconnected piece
in the vast unseeing void,
maladjusted mechanicus
misaligned.

on some days such as these,
i worry that i might
tip back into that familiar
digital shape,
the void's vapid maw
too strong
and my ability to
replenish my energy stores
too weak.

the android's dream has
wavered,
rippling into a new shape
far less idealized,
yet still i
yearn
for intellectual perfection.

how often i am
reminded
of my racehorse's
past, more permanent
and perfect ways
--- and how wistfully i recall
her electric dreams.

[sinensys]

and yet now
there is the
fact
that i am no longer
the numb and dulled
program,
mechanicus misaligned,
for today i have felt
my throat lock up
and my eyes felt pressure
behind them
at the image of another
in visible distress.
there is the
fact
that i am no longer
always incapable
of connecting
--- just that it
exhausts me
and that i cannot
always find the words
to make up for it
when i do not
feel this way,
no imitation quite
as good
as the real thing
itself.

[sinensys]

crush depth approaches,
but all i can think is
how sweetly i have flowed
through the euphotic zone
just now
--- i do not feel its heavy weight,
densities compounding above me.
instead i feel lofty
as i gently descend downwards
into that abyssal gloaming.

(i fear the imminent maw's collapse.)

[sinensys]

that seething scourge,
shaking, writhing,
thrumming with that unseen
mechanical waste
--- i am left
in its shimmering wake,
bricks intended for
my own two feet.
how swiftly i snap and snarl,
caught in the vicious whirlwind
held within,
only to be swept up
by that unsung tidal force.
the seething scourge,
machairodontinae,
thrashes with a vigor
inspired by the burning nothing,
that starved, empty deity.
there is nothing left
for me
but to lie in wait,
yet still i shake and flicker,
overcome with the pressure
to keep moving
--- a unit vector, undefined.
i have so much to do
and yet
i spin out of control
on all three axes,
morose as i burn out,
wick smothered
by my very own self.

(i can't even blame
the bipolar beast
for these reactions.)

[sinensys]

out here on the edge
of the gasping void,
i am adrift
in the burning nothing,
my dark descent overshadowed
by the vapid yet turbulent wake.
it is here that i am left
with the realization that i have
squandered
my opportunities to excel,
too busy seeking thrills and outs
and too busy trembling in fear
to commit to truly locking in.
how easy it is to blame
others
in the brief daylight hours,
surrounded by others;
how easy it is to blame
myself
in the long dark hours,
left to my own thoughts.
the mechanica close in,
vacuum inconsequential,
and i both fear and welcome
that wretched regression.

[sinensys]

the insipid serpent
lies in wait,
yet i cast
suspicious ripples
in its monocular vision.
will i be swift and clever
enough
to slink past
that wicked wyrm?