40 Fathoms
His receding buzzline
Starts in the back and works
In reverse, each week gaining ground
Like the ruthless chess fiend he may very well be
It’s only a question of focus
And today’s not his day
Mid-tirade before he crosses the doorframe
Mumblings that can be heard
But not understood, except by
The mind of the beholder
Overdrive is neutral and
Neutral is not to be fucking accepted
Scouring the room for an available
Pair of ears
Be my soundboard and I’ll gift you
A secret, you’ll understand
What it means to be privy
To the truths
Only a true monster can fathom