In the hypothetical world,
everything’s
possible,
even
possible is this colossal
misadventure
to fold back on
itself,
gift us
respite,
as we’ve
never should have been to
this extent-
-shower-shunned
still still nights,
flourished-envy,
deeply dark,
mysterious
in the intense clarity
knowing
we’ve had our share of love,
affairs,
love affairs running course long
after
receiving a poor prognosis, locomotive
till
tomorrow rolls forward,
directly
over our beaten path,
and questions
arise between us,
as numerous
as stars rearranging their
next
elliptical,
then the you
inside,
the you
everyone supposes
acclimates
to those suppositions,
planets
peering from behind cloud cover,
taking on
titles unsuited if only to suit a
more viable
presence-
we cannot
take into each other each other
when those
fragments aren’t indivisible,
individuals
defiant, crying in a sad life as everyone
visible
sadness has contaminated everyone visible-
-so shall we
become invisible?
and will we
fall into terminal despondency,
make still
our motion as to attract no eyes
in motion?
Always,
reckonings punching themselves
out,
tiresome the wait will become darling, as
a fighter’s
punch is always the last to go.
-Dontrell Lovet't
from [UnderStudies]
Photography by Nicholas Percell
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