Tonight seems rigged to be nearly endless—
highly deceptive minutes
a jangle of black fabrication
crouched and trembling.
It’s sad that you’ll never be able to transcend your suffering;
you’re just not that good at being human.
Folding blissfully
you’ve become the force you refuse to believe in—
and you don’t understand it;
why spring became excited when you entered the world
taking advantage of you by the thoughtless sea,
your bright neck and your reckless idiot breasts
and still you value the most fantastic lies
and misadventures of mind.
This was my idea—
the gradual wriggling of darling, thumb-like things
I built it all on my own
and if I love you it’s only because you’ve given me
fleeting access to your introverted visions;
an atmosphere of no resistance
unleashing five toe-swept vivas
into the emptiness of space
bubbles of deletion bursting in your brain.
Richard King Perkins II is a state-sponsored advocate for residents in long-term care facilities. He lives in Crystal Lake, IL, USA with his wife, Vickie and daughter, Sage. He is a three-time Pushcart, Best of the Net and Best of the Web nominee whose work has appeared in more than a thousand publications.