the symmetry is always the same
a calm then a rush then nothing,
then a rush and then calm,
like all the lights in the world
have gone out.
composed I prepare to impose myself
upon assembled minds
pressing a world of self-made pressure
into impressionable consciousness
leaving poetic forensics.
it’s a Dark Web drug
that hits you different each time,
dealt at basement open-mics
and dished out to all comers.
it’s the calm and the rush and the nothing;
its’s the rush,
and then it’s the calm
and then it’s the wanting more.