Before you

I’m sorry, I had to turn dust first,
how else would I’ve beheld your silent mouth?
I don’t blame the pinhole camera
it only allows in so much light,
thats what gives it that old-timey effect.
You’ll start to harken the quiet but doubt
and wonder if you can ever not just
expend all your energy to fix it yourself,
I guess that’s what they call prayer,
emptiness presented as a feast.
You can’t not have another go,
even if it kills you. It’s an addiction
sculpting the immemorial into monuments.
You get the first of way too many
second chances to make a first impression.
If you have to choose even more wisely,
each instant, which was better,
if you can even recall how exactly it turned out
to begin with, or end, rather, why not?
Purpled neutrinos dot the stream
like salmon ripe for fishing,
they’re just there to fuck and
remind you, you were never really present.
Every time you rewind, it takes
all you got, shave a few minutes
here, lose a few there, what’s the difference?
You have to do everything twice, but
god damn is it worth it, least it seems.
The light that shines twice as bright
lives half as long, that’s a good trade, right?
Thing about light, is it travels way too slow.
Before you can float back
tachyons grab your hair by the pate,
snap the crumpled and shamed neck
to whisper “It will never be.”
For a second, they had me fooled.