when all these discarded images
come to surface like ophelia
grasping at the wide white nothing air
maybe i'll have come to terms
with my own mind.
when all the social implications
of society driving me already up-er-the-wall
(motherfucker), that will someday come tumbling
against an impenetrable impossible sky of agitation.
when all these numb words
fail to cause refrain
from my fingertips and lips,
when we have taken rebellion so seriously
that we cannot see ourselves
our own frail image of the teeter-totter of sanity
against the playground of oblivion.
when the weatherman offs himself on live tv
will we have then paid our dues
to become better
and to more freely
change with the climate.
questions too damning
too daunting, to delineate the complexity of answer
to their taunting propositions.
perhaps someday though,
we will see it
all before us
lucid as a bright green carpet of sod
upon the earth
unfurled for us
soon as we got off our bikes
to go traipsing through and upon
and on and on
till utopia tickles our nosehairs
like some cleverest feather
and all the feelings we severed
relive in the flesh as more than just prosthetics
then we will know
then we will know.