Paranoid Poem for Times of Turmoil
Paranoid Poem for Times of Turmoil 
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paulbmurufas
paulbmurufas Writer in California's Bay Area. Poet
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
“My childhood was happy. It had nothing to do with the way I turned out later.” -Roberto Bolaño

Paranoid Poem for Times of Turmoil

“My childhood was happy. It had nothing to do with the way I turned out later.” -Roberto Bolaño

in the quarantine, i can nurse a dying dream

my tunnel vision, my science fiction and noir

now everything’s falling to pieces-

i am looking for the winning scratcher

stuffed into a trashbag of hopes and failures

you were the one who told me

that god was like the lottery

and would give me a second chance.

i was resigned to drowning in the disaster

my horoscope said “run while you still can.”

then we ran out of coffee,

the neighbors were watering their lawns

and putting out a fire on the sidewalk.

the next day things were totally back to normal,

everyone was taking their pills on schedule

and we did laps around the bed and then slept again

a writer once told me to dive into my craft,

with no swimming lessons and without an inflatable vest

next i was being waterboarded by the muse

in Guantanamo bay, renovated as a space station

to save Earth’s reputation

i died and came back to life

as our rocket left the earth,

and saw the angels

but still woke up as an atheist

now i can sustain momentum

long enough to scream in space

and disintegrate in a dust

on the thruster engines

she said love was like an oil spill,

we would all be sorry afterwards

but they’d never turn the drills off

that was the last thing i remember,

before the memories i ruthlessly suppressed.

i picked you flowers in heaven–

you were an angel and i was bucket of water.

then we were washing the walls off,

graffiti marks and oil paint running down a rag

first i was writing a novel,

then it turned into the vietnam memorial

and nobody cared or could tell the difference

i am joining a conspiracy of fish

to smash the windows out

at Aquarium of the Pacific

don’t let them see you flop

I want to believe

we can find a way out to the ocean

now the informants

are jockeying for position,

pushing and shoving

for a handler in the highest places

they’ll throw us all in a mass grave

and someone

will pay a robot

to kick the dirt in.

i am melting like a gram of heroin

someone is sucking me up a straw

on the strength of a death wish

soon we’ll be closing in on it,

and live with the risk

like a bank robber out the door.

i’ve overcharged the batteries–

someone clean the acid

from my metal disc

a spider’s web is spun

& spun & spun

& spun again

when the fly

breaks bad

for the long haul

a poem could explode at the end

they’ve left me here with the matches

and no plan B

underground, in the bunker,

digging out a tunnel to the planet’s core

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