If I could, I would burn you to the ground.
I mean it.
I would burn you down and piss on the ashes.
But you stand, a metal conduit,
between the being and the has been
between the training and steering wheel.
You are the kid with a white sheet with two eyeholes cut out to see.
But sometimes you take me high
You are cocaine metaphorized history and I am an addict
Can I ever jump out at the highest arch before gravity grabs my the waist
and pendulums me down, back, forward towards now.
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