I think the universe is the largest,
slowest, most boring pinball machine imaginable,
although maybe the problem is me,
me failing to imagine the metalloid
asteroids pinging between Mars and Jupiter, the whirling
electrons inside the asteroids
decaying radioactively, crumbling
into the elements of their elements, jumbling
deeper into disorder before tumbling
between the flippers of consciousness
(each of my brain hemispheres is a flipper),
falling, falling until they land right here, on this page–

—–

I think the universe is a carnival funhouse on fire,
everything is more exciting with twisted mirrors and slanted floors,
everything is even more exciting when everything is aflame,
scientists say that both fear and excitement
are fueled by a surge of adrenaline,
and I say that adrenaline is the opposite of death,
because if death is a flatline on the X-Y axis,
then life must be the clattering roller coaster
next to the burning funhouse,
careening through the center of the burning funhouse,
the carnie at the controls had not slept in thirteen days,
the carnie at the controls was me,
the janky clanky roller coaster crashing
through the roaring funhouse was my life
and I was riding in the front coaster car,
I was riding in the front car and controlling the controls at the same time,
this sounds impossible but it is true,
I have no idea how I survived
but I am glad that I did
and I don’t live that way anymore,
but I regret nothing and enjoy reminiscing
because it reminds me that I was not
and still aren’t the opposite of alive–

—–

I think the universe is basically a meth lab,
lots of containers full of volatile substances
interconnected by tubes, and the fluids
are stable when not mixed together,
but they’re also not very interesting
in isolation and can even lose their potency over time,
just like the therapists say, but on the other hand
the intermingling of the substances must be done
with utmost care and mindfulness,
with impeccable timing and volume and proportion,
because we all know what happens
when the meth lab goes wrong,
when the delicate pattern is skewed,
we’ve all been through it one way or another,
one might call it the hot blossom
of a perilous new world, although I prefer
to just call it the Big Bang–

—–

I think the universe is an infinite set of nesting dolls,
layers cascading endlessly in both directions,
there are times when I need to wind things up,
there are times when I need to wind things down,
the nesting dolls will gladly accommodate either desire,
but because they are infinite
they will never provide closure,
no rousing climax nor soothing resolution—
I am trying to get to the bottom of this,
I am trying to get on top of the matter,
but I suppose I’ll have to just add more to the middle,
and hope that this is good enough for now–