• sick of ignorance
    but fed up with intellectual pursuit.
    like the Teacher.
    references ahoy.

    the singularity, solemnity of the human soul.
    especially mine. i can't bear it any more.
    the weights are attached, so that i may count grains.
    of sand. from the bottom of the sea to the top.
    i can't escape my own judicial punishment.
    because i've appointed it.

    so. shackled and moreso, enslaved to my own willpower.
    i wait to hear that maybe my jury's reflection won't be mine own.
    the ultimate condemnation isn't the punishment; just the ceaselessness.
    of my power-ravaged mind. bitter and for the right reasons; i wait for
    justice. or a verdict. which ever you can decide.

    they and i state that an anchor shall be thrust upon my back, to sink in the
    waters, until no more breath shall inhibit my lungs. no love in my heart, no thoughts.
    in my head.

    the boat creaks and sometimes, it appears the waves could conquer the old waxy, wooden ship.
    i hope that maybe my lungs would fill with seawater, because then i would only stop breathing.
    i could still love, and think.
    or that they would shoot me for truancy, in the head or the heart, so i could maintain at least
    any two of my facilities.

    when we reach where the water is warm, and the sea is calm, i walk out on a plank, my knees buckled.
    and bent, oddly twisted in order to maintain their crucifical stance. they cut the anchor off.
    my own punishment relinquished. i think of killing my captors; myself; anyone with any ties to this
    mistrial, this misunderstanding. a cloud moves lazily across the sky, pale blue because we have willed it so.