Alex Lombardo ’20

It runs with itself,

Concentric masterpiece of thought

Overlapping at the edges;

Built in to every moment a time

And I think I hate that.

The constant evaluation of compromise,

Or, what must go out

When I think to think

Give nothing to nothing

Beget an emptiness

Convey purpose shot

Coerce the self

Sift forward;

Fall back:

You are creating a self.

You are yourself

I’ve worn out my welcome

The old skin is loose

I see the others

They are not so lost

Sharp outline of taut brow

Casual suggestion of arson

It’s good for the soul

If you know what I mean

The shroud falls

The coins melt

I stand and stumble

Black ash bruising blind flesh

I saw you one morning,

Resplendent in my hatred

I thought to speak

But acted otherwise

The difficult halo you cast

Stayed my throat

As the bile rose frankly;

Disdain feeds itself

No one cares if you leave—

Never arrive.

If no one knows you’re there

Where are you?


Or there.