I will also admit 
how moved I am 
by instrumental versions 
of terrible songs 
in restaurants and that
I've never understood 
why at the end 
of the nightmare 
the murderer and I 
eat a meal together. 
I think I'm mostly 
terrified of progress,
that my raging brain 
continues to clot
in the body print I 
wake up in. What if
what I really need 
is to be chaperoned 
through life as a series 
of lessons to approach 
or abandon, like how 
life already is but 
more easily measured. 
I could try to beat out 
all my bad moves
but that would mean 
no more screaming 
at the sun, no more
waiting to be delivered 
into it.