is the numerical
just
metaphor, or
more?
age, purgatorial 
the sentence, life,
convicted of 
death
resting bereft and
cleaved
of being,
inspired sights seen
or,
insipid response
too far off conspiracy,
reverie,
begotten and non
believing.
some mythos made
from
recycled mythological 
mode, tired, and owed allegiance 
to
some
eternally empty throne,
atoning for
tonality controlled outward, cast
in understudy
too ruddy for resurrection, yet
seeming unending, at
least as far as
fending for energies
operates, 
both in dissonance and
harmony,
with the unseen and 
perceived 
most probably impossibilities.
familial aches reconstructed, again,
and, again, and…
the dynamic permanence of desire,
stagnant, all the
while, the clock,
contrived and condescending, ticks
abound
in dwindling abundance,
never closer,
and further distancing from
reflected promises
made,
seeking meaning
while experience continues
unpaid.

simple enough
celebrated. now
watch
the writer make it
weird.