the binary scraping sound
steel splinters bite the palm
veins purpling, flush with
pushing against what?
Plane across which this object
this pushed thing travels, with
no levity over time
dropped. against the earth
the not perceiving
the failure; not the pain, the hunger
for pain, what failure?
It doesn’t end well, though it ends
precisely as scripted — being separate
from failure — death not its ghost.
So convincingly forced forward, the act opposes itself.