coping mechanism as distraction and vice versa

my mind is not
ready for zen.

my mind is not

it is a slice
of orange.

it is not the type of
orgasmic orange
that you peel
and squeal
its flesh dripping
like fuck.

my mind is not
ready for zen.

it is not

it is wet
like rabies.

it is dry
like disappointing orange.

it will not stop
with its fuck.

if something approaches that
scares me,
i bristle.

i man my

i cower inside
my skin.

i am still inside
my body.

a glass jar, half full of coffee and streaked with fat, sits on a countertop, bathed in the orange glow of artificial light.

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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