the way the world turns

i wish i could explain it
what kind of confusion it is
to lie in such joyful torment

to know i extended a formal invitation
into these rowdy and restless feelings
leaves me cutting off my index fingers
should my hand grow too bold in its judgments

my body does me very few favors
it moans with memories from a thousand years ago
and from yesterdays that graves do not forget

i hang my head in deference
to the whims of the way the world turns
and i ask god to take a seat beside me
as we watch how it all pans out

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