Hissing for Peace

Shovel your limbs into consistent patterns

As potent as pissing in the ocean

I try to untie knots in my sleep

But the spine's just a snake

That's ashamed of itself

While leading a meditation on poor posture

Oh, there are myths here that you could build

The whole of your duration on

I know there are some I'm sleeping around

That I thought would help with the knots

But end up pulling on both ends

It has all the incidental traits

Of the things you love

But it has no meat

It has no bone

As if what the worms do

As if what the worms do

They only do for you

And what the reptile brain do

It only does for you

Anyone else's job

To try to make sense

Of a graceless painting

In a present tense

(It's an embarrassment that, through mercy, is on borrowed time)