Bones & Nuts & Bolts

Showing me his bones and I don’t pay attention, like I can’t see his very bones before me, the lines of words too deep, the screws and bolts holding his bones together. Is that me? Am I the screw? That holds things together I mean, or do I mean nuts and bolt? Just a screw loose, and just a little jolt. Jolt is coming back he says, like energy ever went anywhere anyways, but isn’t that something, isn’t that the way energy goes or doesn’t go, it just is, and then isn’t, but if it isn’t then where did it go? Do you see my conundrum here? 

So I cannot see myself, in the reflection of the bones in his tiny pocket oracle, the digital images of skulls and crossbones glaring back at me through the excited smile, what is it that makes the writing worth reading, what is it that makes the reading worth hearing, and what is it that makes this existence worth bearing? 

Moonlit energy going places…