on racing

the equivalency meter
is harrowing down
on me.

i’ve redefined the standards
into patterns. reflecting

the matters that matter the most —
a front-seated show, labeling the rows
like they were my children.

but i have no children.

just vacancies.

and the only thing
i can do is free me
from the scales i once shared
with kings.


off the weight and
into a forgotten dream.

i can only remember pieces now.
or maybe i’m just trying

to shatter myself

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