mumbo jumbo gumbo

the bog is thick
and the mud is painfully gluey
around my ankles
the morbid curiosity of my mind
and of my ideology
however
makes me wade deeper and deeper

if this was a wallet I would give it back
if this was a bicyle I would return it
if this was a CD I would scratch its belly
if this was a horse I would send it to pasture

but I don’t
because I can’t
because I don’t want to
end what I have accomplished.

always searching
finding lights and flashes
and spiders crawling on walls
and deciding, at the end of the day
and at the beginning of the morning
that it’s worth the ivory tower sacrifices
I’m making.