i’m cataloging shadows on the wrong side of the wall there’s a hum in the drywall like a hive of tiny saws i saved the receipt for a sandwich from ’04 it’s in the pile with the treaty to stop the internal war and the mind is a crowded restaurant where no one gets a drink the waiters are colliding and the ship begins to sink it’s loud in here it’s baroque and unrefined just birds caught in the attic of the architecture of the mind you asked me what i’m thinking but the file is corrupted there’s a news anchor screaming that the broadcast is disrupted i’m worried about the ozone i’m worried about my shoes i’m wearing a tuxedo to watch the evening news (the static tastes like juice) every conversation i ever failed to finish is playing on a loop that i cannot diminish napoleon is weeping in the corner of the room he’s sweeping up the glitter with a heavy wooden broom i try to catch the rhythm but the rhythm breaks a bone i am never empty i am never quite alone yeah the mind is a crowded restaurant where no one gets a drink the waiters are colliding and the ship begins to sink it’s loud in here it’s baroque and unrefined just birds caught in the attic of the architecture of the mind
