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Backward Glances

this is

not a

linear

narrative

but you

won't print

anything I've

written

 

you don't print anything I'd read

 

there's colors faded

into the past and I am

a child listening

to the tv static

watching the final

rainbow broadcast

at 4am

 

alone in the dark I have found

I am the last boy on earth

 

this is why I can't sleep

 

no one

is sure

enough

to tell

me this

isn't true

 

even the rust covered sentries that guard my

bedroom door,

 

a stage coach enters scene, right

there, where tea and cookies will be served

in 16-bit reality

 

I am falling forward behind everything,

 

I'll never catch up to the end

 

it's all a gnawing circle

placed over my iris

turning ever steady, ever onward.

November 16, 2015