Polonius said of Hamlet- Though this be madness, yet there is method in’t.
A frenzied flurry of pain,
Follow the same old pattern,
Jump from one blood vessel to another-
Bursting each open.
Faces move past in a blur, like streetlights through the window of a speeding car.
It’s the first step I take every time.
Second, I pause at each face.
I am belted on to the driver’s seat, my left foot on the brake.
A maddening reluctance to feel safe, a desire to fall step by step,
Into a dark abyss of repetition. Of methodical heartbreak every time.
Like scientific results of frenzied experiments.
Maddening results repeated every time.
Who evades the fall? I ask.
Those who speed past faces…fall into an unimaginably circular habit,
Of not falling at all.
Keep going back and forth
To new faces and old,
New faces and old.
Because human actions are a methodical folly-
Repeated in circles and circles more.