Off-Balance Balance

By Amy Thomson

Store-bought transmitters
Dulled jitters
heart flitters
taste of bittersweet
Head heavy
pulled down
in submarine
Can’t cum,
heart’s numb
under Complacency’s
adequate thumb.
Quit school,
too cool
too okay
to stay
not out of fear,
but why steer
when I can float?
A balanced ghost
of Amy Christine,
learned to coast,
prescription post.
Not survived,
kept alive.
Inertia derived,
destruction contrived.
Off-balance balance
replaced by tranquil skies
by placid lies.
Feet up,
laid back,
frets lack,
new knack:
No care,
cool stare,
going nowhere.
Life’s infinite treadmill
powered by last bursts
of light
a sight,
burning stardust,
ember distrust,
gasoline lust,
into Earth’s crust.


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