compulsion

in the rounds of repeated thoughts, all meaning was lost

future knocked
present off the ground
past took wind
and squeezed into a furious little ball
the moment
which, weakly protesting, might as well throw in the towel

carpe diem, and the day was seized,
pounded, thrashed, kicked and buried,
masticated like beef jerky

all the photos reexamined for their significance
evidence of life been lived, oh curated life

pause. and read the newspapers.

but then the cries begin again
flash, the signs carried by smiling, oiled bodies
the bell, the blood, the whispers to begin

again, begin again

but already we know the scores.

yet like a battle cry, the performer flings his paint
throws his life blood, against
the ideas of life, the ideas of blood

to fling oneself against one's ideas of self
and in the bubbling
battleground, lose one
or smash the other

you read.

the disemboweled words can be no recognition
the vanquished lies in the arena, basked in sun, ready for all
the tiger sinks in its cage, the crowd lifts up its thumbs
the winner stands in a pool of blood
everyone endures their freedom

but still
the scores had already been published
yesterday
the ink had melted the press
and you
were sitting in the editor's chair
all this time, wondering what to do with your life